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The Arrangement

Summary: You managed to convince Astarion not to go through with the rite of profane ascension. He remains a vampire spawn, and you now offer your blood from time to time to help with his sanguine hunger until a solution is found.

Even though you had both decided to stay as friends back in Moonrise Towers, lines begin to blur once more as other cravings come to the surface… and things with Astarion are seldom uncomplicated.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Rating: Explicit/18+

Setting: Canon compliant. Post-endgame.

Warnings (will be added as the series progresses): Blood drinking. Pining. Biting. Sexual tension. Mentions of past abuse. Explicit smut.

Chapter 1 - Bloodlust

Chapter 2 - In Between

Chapter 3 - Inconvenience

Chapter 4 - Solution

Chapter 5 - Confrontation

Chapter 6 - Broken

Chapter 7 - Tension

Chaprer 8 - Revelations

Chapter 9 - The Arrangement

Chapter 10 - A New Way

Masterlist . AO3 (cross-posted there)

one thing about me? I fucking love florkofcows comics. So have some OM! flork edits. (:

Thirst/comfort???? How about Luci about to have sex with reader (their first time) and they cant at all relax? They're really tense and shaky because they know its gonna hurt. (Luci comforting reader during the whole thing? i dont know if this counts as a thirst)

-🍊Oranchi🍊

18+ nsfw headcanon // minors do not interact

Omg 😩💕!!!

Lucifer is a caretaker at heart and that extends to the bedroom. Depending on what u want huehue 😏

He knows if it's done right, it shouldn't be that painful. Of course he knows everyone is different but he assures you that he will try to make it the least painful as possible, 'slow and steady' is how it'll be done he tells you when he sees how nervous you are.

He would be so soft and sweet, he loves you and he wouldn't do anything to harm you. He would check in on you frequently through out the whole session. He'd be so gentle, praising you when he can.

"Look at how well you're taking my fingers already."

He'd press soft tender kisses to your face and neck as his warm lubed up fingers gently finger fuck you. He'd murmur a small "we can stop anytime you're uncomfortable my little lamb."

He will make sure you're as comfortable as you can be. After all, and perhaps there's some selfishness here, it'd hurt his pride if you didn't enjoy your first time with him.

"Mm...doing so good. The tip is already in, how are you feeling?" He asks and presses a sweet kiss to your forehead.

"Oh my little lamb wants more? Very well then." ⬦

also someone requested a virgin mc version of this back in june and I've been sitting on it ever since. perhaps I should continue to work on it?🫣

Lucifers part is actually done and idk if I wanna release that by itself or not in case I don't actually finish it... Decisions of an amateur writer. 😔

There also needs to be a button for “this is the 5000th time I’ve read your fic because I’m having a horrible day and this is the only thing in the world that always brings me happiness.”

Why do you reblog your own fics so much?

Because someone might as well!? And look at this. Look. At. This.

Does this look right to you??

These are just the last three fics I wrote. I appreciate the likes, believe me I do, but you have to understand. Likes do nothing for content creators. It’s the reblogs. Because that’s how you find shit on your dashboard. Through reblogs. Not likes. This isn’t twitter or tiktok or instagram. This is a website that’s run by the reblog system.

Reblogging helps content creators put their stuff out there. Why do you think so many people stopped writing fanfic and creating beautiful fanart and edits? It’s because they put in hours of work and don’t get nearly enough notes for their masterpieces. Yes we do this because we enjoy it but like...some validation won’t hurt. A boost of confidence here and there might be all someone needs to finish whatever thing they started and left.

Anyway, I’m still going to reblog my shit...

Reblog to kill it faster

she mumbled that i was peculiar

sukuna x reader summary: impressively, sukuna is still trying to find ways to deny his feelings for you. nevertheless, he keeps you safe from harm when a late night trip to the store doesn't go as planned. will seeing his violent nature for yourself change the way you feel about him? he seems to think so. w/c: 4.2k (oops) tags/warnings: angst to fluff. attempted kidnapping. canon typical violence. depictions of blood. reader throws up. reader is in shock for a bit. cursing. aged up!yuuji. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. *please mind the warnings for this chapter* a/n: i'm sorry this took so long! im ngl, i struggled quite a bit to write this chapter. i'm still unsure about the pacing, but here it is anyway. thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy! series masterlist // masterlist

it's not often that you go out for the evening, but tonight is one such occasion. you leave around seven, excited to meet nobara and maki for dinner.

when yuuji falls asleep a few hours later, sukuna doesn't take over right away. he spends a while in his domain, engaging in what some people might call sulking.

before long, however, he begins to feel restless and he tells himself it's because he's grown accustomed to his finite hours of freedom. of course, it has nothing to do with your absence.

so he assumes control of his vessel's body and pulls a short novel from your bookshelf. settling on the couch, his fingertips brush over the cover: the stranger by albert camus

it's the first time he's ever been alone in your apartment, a fact he's well aware of, and his eyes wander to the front door. it'd be all too easy to pull it open, to make his way downstairs and out onto the street.

how long would it last before yuuji regained control? are you nearby? would you get caught up in the havoc he'd doubtlessly wreak?

the thought makes him grimace. returning his focus to the book in his hands, time seems to pass by faster as he makes his way through the pages.

even so, he deems the narrative a bit boring. in his (what's the opposite of humble?) opinion, dead mothers and nagging girlfriends don't make for the most captivating story, so his mind begins to wander once he happens upon the quote:

"so why marry me, then?" she said. i explained to her that it didn't really matter and that if she wanted to, we could get married. besides, she was the one who was doing the asking and all i was saying was yes. then she pointed out that marriage was a serious thing. i said, "no." she stopped talking for a minute and looked at me without saying anything. then she spoke. she just wanted to know if i would have accepted the same proposal from another woman, with whom I was involved in the same way. i said, "sure." then she said she wondered if she loved me, and there was no way i could know about that. after another moment's silence, she mumbled that i was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day i might disgust her for the same reason.

sukuna thinks about you— the woman who forced her way into his solitude.

although, what if it hadn't been you? what if the brat had been involved with another woman? would he have eventually taken an interest in her too?

are you really that special, or is he just going crazy inside the cage that is itadori yuuji? the latter is much more likely, right?

he supposes he prefers the idea of madness over... feelings for some human.

all of a sudden, your apartment door seems much more inviting. would it be so bad if he were to step through it? what did he really have to lose?

yeah, that's right. he'll get up any second now and act on every horrible impulse he's been repressing. any second now... any second...

he can't quite figure out why he's unable to bring his limbs to move, weighed down by some force that's beyond him.

it's at that moment the door clicks open and for a split second, he thinks it must be his sign to go, but then you come waltzing in.

"'kuna!" you greet in an excited manner, disrupting the peaceful quiet.

kicking off your shoes haphazardly, you make your way over to him and promptly drop yourself into his lap. it elicits a bout of unwelcome clarity for the king of curses.

no, he wouldn't have taken an interest in just anyone, that much becomes obvious. it wasn't through a medium as flawed as chance that he came to... tolerate you. you're much too annoying for that to be the case.

"hello???" you wave your hand in front of his face. "i'm home."

"i can see that."

"welcome home, darling," you say in a deep voice, a poor imitation of him. "i missed you so much— that's what you're supposed to say."

yeah, definitely too annoying.

"but i didn't miss you." one of his hands comes to rest on your thigh, a betrayal of his preceding assertion.

"you're sitting alone reading—" you pause to inspect the book lying open beside him. "existential fiction about a nihilistic frenchman. of course you missed me."

he changes the topic rather swiftly. "you're drunk."

"i'm tipsy, at best." you roll your eyes. "can't i just be happy to see you?"

"you'd be the first."

"i don't mind making history."

you place a kiss on his lips, casual and affectionate in way that makes sukuna's body stiffen, and stand up.

"i need to get ready for bed, then we're gonna watch tv together because i missed you— gosh, see how easy that was?"

you run off to the bathroom and his body doesn't fully relax until he hears the shower turn on.

the thought of missing someone is a strange notion to him, because it implies eagerness and desire. for as long as he cares to remember, those emotions have been reserved for proclivities much more sinister.

so he hadn't missed you. he just would have preferred it if you stayed home. that's all.

when you return to the living room around fifteen minutes later, you're wearing one of yuuji's shirts, and as far as sukuna can tell, very little otherwise.

making yourself comfortable on the floor between his legs, you pass a hair tie behind you. "can you braid my hair?"

he's watched you get ready for bed enough times that he's fairly certain he can manage it. taking the tie from you, he still asks "why can't you do it?"

"because i'm sleepy," you frown, reaching for the tv remote.

gathering your hair in his hands and carefully dividing it into sections, he sighs. "you require so much looking after."

"you're not going to die if you can't have cookies tonight." sukuna states dryly, glancing at the clock that reads eleven o'clock.

"please don't trivialize my struggle," you begin, pulling on your jacket. "i want miso butter cookies— my grandma's secret recipe."

most of what you need can be found in the kitchen, but a trip to the store is in order for a few final ingredients.

"my mistake," he huffs, rising to his feet. "how insensitive of me."

"oh, it's alright. just don't let it happen again."

"sure. i'll keep that in mind, princess." sliding the apartment door's chain lock off the track, he does little to hide the vexation in his tone.

just as he reaches for the handle, you stop him and wrap a scarf around his neck, forcing a hoodie into his hands. "put this on. you'll be cold."

he looks at you as if you're crazy. "i don't have to worry about things as insignificant as the weather."

"well, put it on anyway," you insist.

he decides that acquiescing will be easier than arguing for the next five minutes and slips the hoodie over head. when you both step out into the chilly air of night, there are still a decent number of people traveling the streets.

stopping at a crosswalk the next block over, you begin to prattle on about what you need to pick up and the different steps in your recipe. naturally, you completely miss it when the pedestrian sign turns green.

"come on," sukuna commands, his hand wrapping around your wrist and tugging you along with him. "i don't have all night."

you scoff. "to be fair, i didn't say you had to come with me."

"yeah well it's late. you shouldn't be out alone." there's a hint of exasperation in his voice, like he truly had no choice in the matter.

despite that, once you reach the other side of the street, his fingers slide down your palm and thread through yours.

you glance over at him and find he's looking off to the side, so you bite your lip to suppress your pleased smile. is he avoiding your gaze intentionally? you decide that bashfulness suits him better than you would have expected.

offering him a light squeeze of the hand, you hope it conveys your appreciation of his small display of affection.

"so, are you going to help me make the cookies?"

his lips press into a thin line. "as thrilling as that seems, i don't particularly have a penchant for baking."

"you think you'd humor me a little! you know, since i'm your only friend and all."

"if anyone else asked me such a ridiculous question, they wouldn't live to see tomorrow." you ponder whether he's joking and quickly decide that he isn't. "this is me humoring you."

"you're so mean to me."

"hardly."

"fine," you pout. "then you can't have any!"

"now, hold on." the threat does make him hesitate. you've come to learn that if there's one thing he loves as much as reading, it's food. "let's not be hasty."

you're approaching the store, the sliding doors just a few strides away.

"it's only fair! besides, you're not going to die if you can't have cookies," you throw his earlier words in his face.

he exhales deeply. "have i ever told you how irritating you are?"

"woah! now you're definitely not getting any, mister!"

"alright, alright," he groans as you step inside. "i'll help you bake your stupid cookies."

"perfect!" you exclaim as if you knew he'd give in eventually (you did). "then you can start by finding the miso paste while i get everything else!"

you scamper off before he can tell you not to order him around like some common servant. he's never even been grocery shopping, how the hell is he supposed to find anything in here?

wandering the aisles, he stews over how domestic this is. for god's sake— the king of curses, shopping for ingredients and making baked goods. what have you reduced him to?

just as he considers giving up, he spots the item he's looking for and grabs it so aggressively that it knocks a few packets of instant miso soup to the floor. wrinkling his nose in distaste for the entire experience, he sets off looking for you, though his efforts are to no avail.

he wonders where the hell you could have gone off to when a flickering light catches his eye, filling him with a strange sort of unease.

it's emanating from a narrow hallway tucked away in the back corner of the store. at the very edge of the hall, a phone with a familiar case is lying on the floor, the screen shattered.

his blood runs cold, a sensation that is fully unknown to him, and the miso paste slips from his fingers. he appears in the hallway the very next second and the sight that greets him ignites a furious hostility in the center of his being— heavy and consuming.

you're struggling against one man as he drags you out of the backdoor and into an alley. another man is holding the door open, urging his partner to hurry up.

the hand over your mouth keeps you from yelling, but you're unsure you would have been able to make a sound regardless.

one second you're cast into darkness, and the next, the light seems blinding. the flashing is unceasing and it makes your head hurt.

two limbs are wrapped around your torso, keeping you firmly in place, and your arms are trapped at your sides. you might be kicking your legs, but they may just be dragging along too. you really can't be sure.

there's a thrum of a heartbeat at your back. it's pace is unforgiving, the intensity mirroring that of your own. you've a vague concern that your heart may very well beat right out of your chest.

then there's an abrupt shift in the air and a sickening crack echoes through out the night. crumpling onto the concrete, you think it must have started raining before you realize that the droplets on your face are warm.

you wipe at your cheek and your fingers stain crimson, the color matching that of an increasingly large puddle seeping across the pavement beside you.

there's a heap lying a few feet away and you recognize that it's wearing clothes. it's a sight you struggle to make sense of.

needing to focus on something else, your eyes find sukuna and the expression he's wearing is fierce and unreserved. "tell me what you wanted with her."

you've never heard him speak in such a way. his tone is low, his cadence nothing short of threatening.

"s-s'kuna?" your own voice sounds foreign to you and it goes unheard by him.

he has your attacker pressed against the brick wall of the alley, both hands wrapped around his throat. he's too livid to realize the pressure on his windpipe is preventing him from answering.

sukuna throws him to the other side of the alleyway out of frustration, the man rolling onto his back and wheezing to appease his lungs.

"tell me!" sukuna commands again, louder this time. less collected.

the man scrambles away from his looming figure. "th-they sent us, told us they needed her for an important matter."

"who?"

"they'll kill me if i tell you—"

sukuna crouches down, laughing dryly. "and what do you suppose i'm going to do?"

his eyes are almost unrecognizable to you. they're frenzied— a few shades deeper than the scarlet you've grown so fond of.

"you'll k-kill me either way, so at least i'll die with honor—"

"tch. useless." sukuna waves his hand, and you can hardly comprehend what happens right in front of you.

neat red lines appear across the man's body, then it ruptures into nothing at all. the only evidence that he was ever there in the first place is his blood.

the stench of which is perhaps the worst part— intense, coppery, and hot. it makes your eyes water, and before you know it, you're hunched over and emptying the contents of your stomach onto the ground.

sukuna is at your side in an instant, pulling your hair away from your face, but while one of your hands is braced against the concrete, the other endeavors to push him away.

his body doesn't budge at the contact, but he takes a step back anyway in an attempt to respect your wishes.

your mind is a mess filled with racing thoughts— what the fuck? this cannot be happening. what the hell even happened in this first place? that man was there and then he wasn't.

inhaling sharply, you wipe at your mouth and shift to pull your knees to your chest.

"what..." you trail off, surveying the unutterable, incomprehensible scene before you. "what did you do?"

he doesn't respond, though his features noticeably soften. somewhere in the back of your mind, you know very well what he did, but you can't help repeating. "what did you do?"

"we need to leave." it's not that sukuna couldn't handle whoever might show up, but seeing as this is your reaction, he has no desire to. "if you let me touch you, i can take us home."

you take a moment to think about it, then nod wordlessly. as soon as his hand falls on your shoulder, you're met with that same sensation you felt the night gojo teleported you and yuuji home after one too many drinks.

though this time, the sick feeling in your stomach isn't caused by liquor. you don't stand up, you don't so much as move a muscle when you feel the surface beneath you shift from concrete to carpet.

sukuna breathes out your name, his uncertainty evidenced by the way he's shoved his hands into his pockets. meeting his eye, you reiterate the same inquiry once more. "what did you do?"

it's almost as if you want him to tell you that he didn't do anything. that the whole experience was some disturbing nightmare.

"those men would have hurt you."

"that doesn't mean they deserved to die." you choke on the final word.

"yes— it does."

with that, silence hangs in the air like a suffocating miasma.

looking to your hands, you're reminded of the blood you've been spattered with. "i need to wash up."

you still don't move from your spot, too fixated on your flesh and the dreadful hue that it's been painted with. sukuna notices now that you're trembling.

he approaches you hesitantly before extending his hand. "let me help you."

you decline his offer, shying away from him. "i think you've done enough already."

god, the look in your eye is utterly despondent. he struggles to swallow the lump that forms in his throat.

his arm falls limply to his side and he looks across the room, your copy of the stranger earning his attention.

he's overcome with chagrin when he realizes that his concern brought about by camus' quote the other night was wholly misguided. he'd been focused on his own feelings, whether they were genuine or simply wrought by his isolation.

how foolish was he to ever question what you truly mean to him? with the anguish that's settled in his chest at the sight of your current state, the fact he ever doubted it makes him feel like a hopeless idiot.

had he any sense at all, the part that resonated with him would have been—

she mumbled that i was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day i might disgust her for the same reason.

disgust. is that what you're feeling now? he's certain it is.

it was just last week that he relayed the story of his past. you're the only person alive to know the truth of how his wickedness came to be, and you met him with unconditional sympathy and understanding.

you pulled him close and embraced him, but now that you've seen him for what he truly is...? you can barely stand to touch him and it's like a knife to his heart.

you're so fucking warm— like the sun against his skin after weeks of endless rain.

and if you're the sun, surely he is the moon— cold and barren on his own, but brilliant when in the presence of your light.

to be without that? to be without you? it's a prospect too terrible for him to bear. it makes his stomach twist miserably.

you're startled (as is he) when his form falls to the floor, his knees meeting the carpet with a dull thud. he calls out your name again, but this time, his voice cracks as he speaks. "please."

he doesn't have a clue what he's even asking for. a chance to explain? forgiveness? a way to turn back time?

you don't say anything, but you do shift your gaze to him. he knows that he needs to fix this, so he wracks his mind for the right words.

"i didn't enjoy killing those men." he's somewhat surprised to find he's telling the truth.

"you didn't?" your voice is so small and timid that he can hardly decipher your words.

"no. my only concern was to keep you safe— to make sure they never put their hands on you ever again. all i felt was rage and... and... guilt. i should have never left you alone and it's my fault—"

"stop," you interrupt him.

there are tears welling in your eyes, making it difficult for sukuna to breathe. he's positive you're going to tell him that his intentions were of little consequence and that you never want to see him ever again.

instead, you push yourself forward and collapse against his body, your own wracked with violent sobs. the reality of the situation is only just now hitting you. it'd been much easier to focus on what sukuna had done, rather than what almost happened to you.

"i was so scared, 'kuna."

and still, despite the way you're clinging to his shirt and burying your face in chest, he's under the impression that it's him you were afraid of.

"i'm sorry," he tells you earnestly. "i never meant to frighten you."

"n-not of you. those men." you're struggling to speak in between desperate gasps. "why did they do that? what did they want with me?"

"i don't know." though, he is going to find out.

sukuna is not a man well versed in comfort, so he's not entirely sure why he begins rocking you back and forth, but he does it anyway.

when you finally start to breathe a little easier, he mumbles into your hair, "come on. let's get you cleaned up."

he doesn't give you a chance to respond before he scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the bathroom. setting you down on the counter gently, he searches the linen closet for a cloth.

it's quiet, save for your intermittent sniffling, as he runs it under warm water and wrings it out. his free hand moves to rest against the side of your neck and he dabs at the blood on your face, rinsing the washcloth every now and then.

he tries his best not to show it, but sukuna is agonizing over what might be going through your mind.

do you still feel safe with him? have your feelings changed? do you still love him, even when you've been so harshly reminded what he's capable of?

when you speak for the first time your words are hoarse, barely above a whisper. "thank you for saving me, sukuna."

he thinks about telling you not to thank him, not when it shouldn't have happened in the first place. he left your side, an error in judgement he'll never forgive himself for.

he considers your mortality— your weakness— in relation to his feelings for you. he's always seen this exceptionally human quality as despicable.

but now? all it does is terrify him.

"in the past, i was only concerned with my own whims and desires." his hand moves to cradle your face, his thumb running over your cheekbone. "though after tonight... you have to know..."

it's clear that he's struggling. his eyebrows draw together and his mouth twitches as he ponders his next words.

"i care about you, angel." his voice is hushed when he adds, "very much."

your eyes widen briefly and you murmur his name, but your mind is still reeling from the events of the past twenty minutes and you can't think of anything more to say. you're emotionally exhausted in a way you would have never thought possible.

it's plain to him too, so he knows his next question is selfish, but he can't go on without knowing. "does what you saw tonight change things between us?"

the silence preceding your answer seems to stretch on forever.

"i thought it would," you confess eventually. it was as if you'd put up a wall in your mind separating sukuna the king of curses from sukuna the man you spend your evenings with.

and it's difficult to reconcile the fact that the hands you saw used to murder two men are the same hands that are caressing your face so delicately.

at some point, however, you realized that the only time you felt fear tonight was when you were without him. his arrival and ensuing actions inspired shock and apprehension, though in some twisted way, you knew it meant you were safe. "but it doesn't."

the next question tumbles from your lips thoughtlessly. "does that make me a bad person?"

he chuckles and some of the tension in the room dissipates. "i think i'm the last one on earth that can pass moral judgement on you."

he tucks your hair behind your ear and scans your face, relief coursing through his body when he sees you smile. in this moment, there isn't anything else in the world he would have asked for.

"i guess you're right."

and now, the hand over your mouth is your own, an attempt to stifle your tired giggles. the light of the bathroom is warm and steady. sukuna's hands rest atop your hips, his touch firm but comforting. while you can't feel your own heartbeat, you're positive it must be beating in time with his.

when you crawl into bed that night sukuna pulls you close, your back pressed to his bare chest. you're thankful for the softness of his demeanor, because you need it tonight more than ever.

he doesn't recede to his domain until yuuji wakes up the following morning. he's determined to keep an eye on you as you sleep, to watch the slow rise and fall of your chest with newfound gratitude.

he knows he needs to speak with the brat about what happened. someone is after you and while he hates to admit it, he knows he can't ensure your safety alone.

and he will keep you safe, no matter the cost.

taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @risuola @lirasmoon @disaster-rose @archivist-ghoul606 @creative1writings @sloppyzengarden @omismicrowave @cecesharktales @tanyeonn @hiqhkey @ruixrei @yellowsubiesdance @thefallofruins @anything-and-everything-here69 @emzalot @elusivemoon @annoyingstrawberryballoon @miabiar @hyeon-yi @iluv-ace @thepup356 @browneyedgirl22 @lantsovheiress // users in bold could not be tagged. if i forgot to tag anyone, my apologies!! just give me a heads up.

Kingdoms - Obey Me TSL

[✧] ー Have you ever wondered how each kingdom in the Tale of Seven Lords looks? Part 2 of my TSL rants <3 all of them will come with the tag #♡ ┊ tsl rants by pk.

[✧] ー extra: Lord Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, Luke and even Solomon's places are mentioned too :)

The Main Three:

♡ ┊ There are three empires over all. Where angels, the holy creatures of light reside, is named Aurum. And where the Demons, creatures of darkness and sin reside, is named Sumbra. And then there is the land of humans, the place were creatures hold both darkness and light within themselves, known as Equilibrium.

♡ ┊ Aurum is ruled by a group of higher up angels named 'Father'. That father doesn't exist, but many believe it to do, especially the humans of Equilibrium. Some of the angels are known of these dark truths, and flee. The angel Simeon and the young angel in training Luke are two examples of the ones who flee, and live in Sumbra. The kingdom of demons, Sumbra, has one main Emperor, known as the King of Lords. That is where Lord Diavolo stands. That part of Sumbra is pretty much like a capital and has its own dukes, counts, etc. The roles are mostly based on Ars Goetia, much like Duke Barbatos. There are six kingdoms in Sumbra, ruled over by the seven overlords.

♡ ┊ And last but not the least is Equilibrium. The main king is King Solomon the wise, but the king himself is not seen much and is only named in stories. King Solomon the wise has disguised himself as a traveller between the three worlds and is known as a sorcerer.

Lord of Corruption:

♡ ┊ The Lord of Corruption's kingdom is by far, the coldest. Full of tall mountains and snow, and corrupted shadows. It is as if clouds are always looming over the kingdom throughout the daytime, and it's very rare for the people to see the sun. Nights are usually clear, but the shadows are ever lasting. The people in Lord of Corruption's domain are known for their harsh exterior but soft hearts, and they're very good when it comes to taming and controlling others. People are mostly wearing warm clothing, and they're very formal.

Lord of Fools:

♡ ┊ A deserted area, but full of glory. Imagine ancient Egypt, but make it eve more magical and elegant. The weather is usually hot, even in winters. As I stated in my other post, I like to imagine that his kingdom has multiple mines of gold and diamond, and many palaces like ancient middle eastern asian countries. The people are known for their good trades and they have connections all over Sumbra, some having connections in Equilibrium too. While Lord of Shadow's domain is good at training knights and war, Lord of Fool's domain is known for their wealth and connection, which makes them very scary.

Lord of Shadow:

♡ ┊ A fantasy kingdom, surrounded by water. The weather is amazing, if you enjoy being around seas a lot. Most of the people have their own sea pets and are great swimmers. I've once read that Levi trained and lead soldiers in wars, and so, I believe his kingdom in the TSL series is also good at training knights. The best knights in Sumbra are trained in Lord of Shadow's domain and have a badge that indicates that they've been trained there. They have huge troops of soldiers for wars and are known for their shape shifting abilities.

Lord of Masks:

♡ ┊ Have you ever seen pictures of magical forests where elves live? Where fairies fly around freely and magical animals walk around? That's the vibes I get when I think of the Lord of Masks. Also, many mystical animals are there. From golden deers to six eyed cats. The weather can be like rainy forests in summer, or as cold as the night in a desert. The whole kingdom, overall, gives cottagecore vibes. The people are known for their talent in plays and theatres. And if you want to read a good book, the best writers are from Lord of Masks' territory.

Lord of Lechery:

♡ ┊ Again another kingdom within mountains, but unlike Lord of Corruption's kingdom, Lord of Lechery's kingdom has warmer weather and more colorful flowers. Lord of Lechery's kingdom, or Asmo's kingdom, is also home to colorful birds and creatures that can live in mountains. Mostly birds though. The people are known for their fashion and amazing taste in colors. They're not that strong when it comes to war and magic, unlike Lord of Masks or Lord of Shadows, but the kingdom is supported by many. Many of the people don't see a reason for war either, why fight when all the other kingdoms love them and their lines of clothing?

Lord of Flies and Lord of Emptiness:

♡ ┊ The kingdom of sun and moon, the empire of light and dark. Where the skies are truly a sight and miracles happen. The kingdom is huge enough that it has been divided to two sides: The Sun, The Moon. This kingdom attracts many tourists, because sun and moon co-exist, they see each other everyday and even if they move, they're still together in the sky (which makes a very beautiful sight).

♡ ┊ Much like the kingdom itself, the people also have two sides. But that doesn't make them 'bad'. They have very delicious food and galaxy themed art. Things you can never find in other places of the world. There many accurate fortune tellers there and people who can read stars for multiple purposes, not just finding their way. The weather depends on where you are, the part dedicated to Lord of Flies? Pretty warm. Mind you, flies do exist there, and they adore the temperature. The part dedicated to Lord of Emptiness? You might need a blanket or too, but don't worry, it's not as cold of Lord of Corruption's domain.

These have been done for RP purposes. Shoot a message if you'd like to rp <;3 what should the next part be? wedding traditions? souvenirs? [Part 1]

Gorgeous. I can only say this girl.

Solomon... again. The new card inspired me to draw him...

psps, hands? what are those?

Black Lotus - Satan

Prince!Satan x GN!Reader

[✧] ー we need more Victorian era themed stuff of these characters :( happy late birthday, Satan <3

Summary: Satan's birthday ball had been quite suffocating, he wanted a break. And who else better than the masked stranger on the balcony to strike up a conversation with? Similar to: roses - lucifer beware: I'm trying to write something historical (just tad bit) so correct me if any title was wrong alright? It's kinda hard keeping it gender neutral ;-; You can listen to: undecided for now, any classic song goes well. my recommended song is merry-go round of life Not proof read

TO think he would be stuck here of all places. Yes, Satan appreciated the fact that his brothers had gone as far as throwing a full blown ball for his birthday, but it was so unnecessary. Uncomfortable in his own skin, hidden behind a mask and smile. He would much rather sit in the silent library, without all these eyes on him, as he enjoyed a roller coaster of adventures with his beloved books. These restrained smiles, two faces now turned three, laughing and enjoying a birthday he wasn't. The big reveal was yet to come. The plan was for him to communicate with other nobles without them keeping themselves back just because he was the fourth born prince. Hence why masks covered everyone's faces. But Satan would much rather do the communication with what the others deemed as peasants than nobles. After all, many of these nobles were of no interest to him. They were just puppets, thinking they were the puppeteer, unaware to all the strings his brothers had attached to them.

He could read these nobles like open books, yet they thought a smile would protect them from Satan's sharp mind and eyes. While this ball did boost his ego (and was his chance at meeting suitors), he wanted a break. There people hired by his brothers to look like the 'prince', and converse with others so they would be distracted from the actual prince. Satan glanced at where all the gifts where.

All these and yet no books? How disappointing.

He needed a break, didn't he? He was tired of keeping up this act. Unfortunately for him, as he approached his favorite spot in the ballroom -the balcony- someone was already there. At least it was one person, not a group of drunk nobles. Whoever this person was, they seemed to be silent too. Good for him. But if this other guest also wanted a break from these nobles, perhaps they could get along. So he decided to approach them, you. He was the prince, he could break rules anytime.

"Good evening, sir/miss. You know, there is an indoor space with couches and tables, correct? Surely your grace wouldn't want to catch a cold." Satan spoke, keeping his distance. Neither of you knew each other's identity and he wondered just how he should address you. You probably had no idea. He decided he would speak about this matter later tomorrow with his etiquette teacher.

You turned around, unbothered by his presence. Of course you were, you viewed him like any other noble guest here and not the prince. "My sincerest apologies, my lord. The ball was getting quite suffocating, so I came to the balcony for some fresh air."

"I know how that feels," Satan replies, his tone of voice still sounding dull. He couldn't help but agree. All night, nothing had grabbed his attention and that was boring him to death. He was tempted to sneak out and back to the library but knowing the annoying eldest, he'd be dragged back in no time. He frowned. Usually nobles came to balls with a partner, so where was yours. "Please disregard my question if it seems to invasive, but are you alone?"

"Yes unfortunately, I couldn't find a suitable partner for the night." you spoke. "If you do not mind answering, how about you, my lord?"

"Hm… I was here by force, this day is more of a celebration for my brothers than myself. I never took a liking to such events, people, conversations." Satan is rather blunt about this. However he made sure his statues are hidden. "What a coincidence, that we both find ourselves in the same predicament." he pauses, then adds, "You are very mysterious, I've never seen you before."

"What a coincidence, that you speak the same lines as the forbidden book 'Black Lotus*', the tale of a musician and a blind prince who only realized he had fallen for a man once the musician was executed." You hummed, smiling. It was the same predicament of the book too, only that none of you were blind. And that you hadn't expected him to be the prince.

"You are quite the bold one, admitting that you have read a forbidden book." Satan pauses for one moment before speaking, "But I must admit, I have read it too. I can't say I feel any sympathy for the blind prince, if only he could've seen the man who he loved, maybe it would've been a different story."

His expression, rather cold from the outside, is warmer than usual as he speaks. You nodded, speaking up. The sudden shift in Satan's attitude hadn't gone unnoticed by you. "And of course, the musician could see. The piece he had written out for the prince and him only... the piano sheets were written in the book and I am truly amazed at how beautiful it was." You sighed dreamily. "For our tale will never end in love. The name of the ballade was… fairy tale, right?"

"Yes, I believe 'fairy tale' is the name of the ballade. As if fate was mocking those who read it. Quite the wise of choice of name if I may speak." If it wasn't for the expressionless and masquerade mask, it would be possible to tell exactly how intrigued Satan actually is by the conversation; he might have even chuckled.

"Quite informant, my lord. I wonder how vast your library and how powerful your connections are." You chuckled, teasing him just the slightest. If the noble in front of you could have his hands on a forbidden book, you wondered what else he could do with his power. He raised his eyebrows, however the action was hidden beneath the mask. "Are you impressed by such things?"

"Who knows, my lord." You turned away from his prying eyes, a smile pulling up to your lips. "A wise and knowledgeable man such as you must have travelled a lot, am I correct?"

"Yes, my lord/lady. However, I have only travelled a little." he shook his head bitterly. "I live quite the secluded life, you see, I have been on a couple of... diplomatic missions. However, the most I've travelled is in and out of the palace library. I still read about distant lands and people and learn of their ways and customs. Though I am no longer allowed outside of our kingdom or this castle." he looks rather saddened by this comment. "My family has quite the power, and after my oldest brother, I would be the most suitable to take over. If he were to somehow die, I would be the first in line to take over our family, based on our parents' will. That would put a target on my back so my mother and father don't allow me out of the castle and our kingdom anymore."

"What a bitter tale, my lord. This reminded me of the tale of the magician who escaped the life of nobles and once his family took a hold of him again, he was forced to live a life of isolation until he was in power. And until then, his only escapism of this cruel reality were books." Your frowned at that. "And yet, all along, he knew that these books could only give him a semblance of reality."

"You mean 'The Mad Magician'? Were you aware that this book has been written based on true stories?" He asked, interested. You knew so many books didn't you? Perhaps you were more interesting than you let on. And in that moment, the mask on your face was looking more like an obstacle than anything else. What a mystery you were.

"There are days I could relate to that story." He pauses, a bittersweet smile forming on his face. "Sometimes I dream about leaving the castle, running away with nothing but the clothes on my back and whatever books I can carry, and never look back." he laughs, but there's a sadness to it.

You frowned at that. You knew how strict most royal families were, but to this extent? Perhaps if you knew more about his title and just who he was, you could have a better grasp. Before you could speak up, he did. "I often think of what would happen to me if my eldest brother is gone, will my life be any better? And as much as I try to despise him, I imagine that I would feel empty without him. The imagination of not having him is quite saddening, as much as I hate to admit it."

"You know, my lord," You paused, wondering how to word it. "Perhaps one day we can go on adventures together, and remake our favorite scenes in books."

"That sounds… appealing… we could explore the world and escape, even for a little while." Satan's eyes lit up. "To be free from our duties, our restrictions and to just explore… it's an alluring prospect, indeed."

"And perhaps, we can begin by sharing our full names, by taking our masks off." A smile tugged up to your lips. "After all, we have spoken of forbidden book and romance, this wouldn't change a thing, would it?"

You were caught off guard as Satan stepped closer, closing the distance between you. He grasped your hands in his and brought it to his mask, a smile finally gracing his cold demeanor. He allowed you to take it off, relishing in the way your eyes widened. You were talking to the prince all this time and only now you understood. "If our secrets are to be told, then I believe we should start with our faces. Now may I see yours, my lord/lady? What is it that I ought to call you?"

Your mouth fell agape and your hands went to your mask, but before you could take it off, hurried footsteps approached. A deep voice spoke up, and you could identify those intense red eyes anywhere. The crown prince, Lucifer. "It seems that you have taken your mask off before the due time, Satan." He gave you a passing glance before motioning for Satan to put it back up. "No matter, come with me quickly, it is about time we reveal who you are."

There was no room for objection as Lucifer walked back inside the ballroom, expecting Satan to follow. Just as things were going well, the eldest had to ruin it for him again. He put his mask back on, giving you a warm smile and nod of the head before leaving. That night, you left a black lotus in the balcony where you stood. And going home, you thought he would never know you.

Little did you know, you didn't go home alone that night.

But as time passed, you would notice lotuses appearing on your balcony. Each time on top of a new book, sometimes even forbidden books. Perhaps the ball wasn't as fruitless as it seemed, because soon enough, letters arrived too.

happy birthday Satan, our little ball of wrath.

Black Lotus: I came up with this book very randomly and chose this name because black lotus symbolizes death, and rebellion.

p.: And after two weeks of receiving endless flowers, a majestic carriage stopped in front of your castle/palace/mansion/place. You can decide how it went :)

Finished filming Nanami's last scene at the beach and look who came to visit 🤭

Yuji, Megumi and Nobara came to support their co-star Nanami Kento on his last day of filming the second season of Jujutsu Kaisen.

Looks like someone was crying his heart out lol

“we can always trust him to lead the right way.”

Yk, I just love it that Devil may cry Fandom is coming back to life again.

Man I really miss 2019 with DMC5. Hope that anime brings back that hype again. Can't wait for the anime!!!

Let's fucking go baby🏃🏻‍♀️

Blasphemous Rumors - V

“Marry me.” He said it with such blasé that you weren’t sure you heard him correctly.  Silence surrounded the two of you and he leaned down and tilted his head, watching you like a specimen under a microscope. “Just for a year.  A marriage of convenience.  Consider it nothing more than a harmless experiment for the sake of curiosity.” Il Dottore/Female reader with established personality.  Slow-ish burn.  Semi-enemies to lovers. On AO3 here. Likes, reblog, and comments appreciated.

You peered out between the crack in the doors at the back of the cathedral.  Every pew was full.  Breakfast, what little you had of it, churned in your stomach.  Your hairpins were too tight and you fought the urge to fix them. 

The front steps were packed to the brim with common folk shivering in their coats and furs, eager to get a glimpse of you despite the bitter cold.  Why would the inside of the church have been any different?

Everyone seemed accounted for.  You had gone through the guest list extensively; it was far too long for your liking.

And it was far too late to back out now.

The high collar and long lace sleeves of your dress were soft, rather than irritating; you were right to have chosen the shop you worked with.  Your final fitting had induced tears, both of lamentation and awe; you only wished you shared such a moment with anyone other than the Tsaritsa.  Who were you to deny an Archon, after all?

She gifted you the veil that now covered your hair and face, as light as freshly fallen snow.  

Part of you wished, hoped, that perhaps you might catch a familiar shape in the crowd.  But as far as you could see, neither of your parents were present.  As expected.  Your father wouldn’t have been in good shape to attend, at any rate.

All that waited for you was a Harbinger, dressed in white, and the Tsaritsa beyond.

You rehearsed this for the past few days with the Omega Segment acting in its master’s place.  The very act did nothing but weigh on your nerves like your boss weighed his mora.  It was infuriating, actually, that Lord Dottore did not deign to show up to his own rehearsal ceremony.  He had that luxury.  You were required to appear.  After all, you had no copies of yourself to delegate tasks to and you were the only one in the ceremony who would do more than just stand and speak.

Typical Harbinger.  Others suffered while they reaped the benefits of their positions.

Running would get you nowhere except a shallow grave.

You agreed to this.  You gave your word.  And such a position would give you plenty of information to pass on.

The music started, the doors opened, and on beat, you began the long trip down the aisle. 

Your grip on your flowers tightened as you went.  The bouquet in your hands was a monstrous thing, flowers practically spilling out of it in an array of irises, cecilias, glaze lilies, and an overabundance of greenery.  The florist had gotten far too overzealous and you wish you hadn’t been so tired during those meetings.  Around you, the church was sparsely decorated except for the long carpet you walked on.  All eyes were, inevitably, be drawn to you.

 Brides were supposed to smile, you reminded yourself.  You hoped your smile only felt tighter than it looked.

Lord Dottore was dressed in mostly white and, naturally, not without that feathery mechanical thing draped over his shoulder like a mink pelt.  His mask was black with blue accents, different than usual mask he shared with Omega.  The tails of his coat were accented with bright blue, matching his waistcoat, and it even looked as though he repurposed the usual dangling tubes into accessories for his suit jacket.  Across his chest, a red sash, not unlike the Tsaritsa’s, denoting his station and affiliation.  A bright and luminous aquamarine gem was nestled into a pin at the base of his throat, floating above a white cravat. 

Despite the upper half of his face being covered, he did a decent job of appearing enamored: a tilt of the head; a charismatic smirk that passed for charming; a shifting of his weight as he fixed his cuffs.  If you didn’t know any better, you might have believed it yourself.

As you approached, you realized his shirt wasn’t black but a deep blue, almost as deep as the midnight sky back home.

You caught the quickest glance at his sharpened teeth when he attempted to match your smile.  It came off more like a snarl as you passed your flowers to an attendant and took Dottore’s awaiting hands.

You shared his sentiments.  Your feet were already aching and the event had barely begun.

The Tsaritsa spoke of a blur of sentiments that, perhaps in any other situation, would have brought you to tears.  Selflessness (impossible for the man before you), a reciprocity of compromise and challenge (only out of necessity to keep your job), sharing in the accomplishments of another (again, impossible for your future husband) were things that, surely, the crowd collected here knew to be absolute bullshit.  Il Dottore, Second of the Fatui Harbingers, was infamous for his ruthlessness, his lack of humanity, unwavering resolution for knowledge at any cost.

Hell, you even severely compromised on traditions that might have added authenticity.  Normal couples celebrated in Snezhnaya for at least two days; a marriage for a high-ranking military official would have warranted far more.  Back home, it was still common to practice the tradition of ransom for the bride but that required your parents and you caught a muttered remark about the cost of your ring.  Betrothal and Crowning were replaced with a simpler ceremony that would not insult the Tsaritsa while remaining true to Dottore's sentiments towards godhood (absolute bullshit, in his opinion). 

He cared little for ritual.  Ritual was nothing more than unsubstantiated nonsense to explain a world instead of looking closely for answers.  So long as everything was legal, it didn't matter to him otherwise.

In exchange, both of you would instead endure a tour of the main city for photographs before the reception.  Pantalone's idea.  Of course.

Would anyone really believe the two of you were serious about this…

The Tsaritsa did though. 

Didn't she?

You tried not to marvel at Lord Dottore's long fingers when he removed his gloves to exchange vows and rings.

His recitation was, of course, perfect.  If he wasn't a scientist, you were certain he might have been a stage actor in another life.  Dottore's touch lingered as he carefully arranged both of your rings and slid them home, ensuring they nested into one another perfectly. 

Compared to your pair of rings, his appeared plain when you slid it on after affirming your vows in return.  Then again, this union meant nothing and his adornments were always more about his rank and their functionality.  An unassuming band of platinum suited him just fine.

Touching him was less a sparking jolt at the sensation of skin on skin and more akin to a burn, as if thawing one's hands in front of a roaring fire after a day in the tundra.

The Tsaritsa spoke again, giving closing remarks.  You wanted to pull away already but there was little choice in the matter.  Dottore's fingertips were curled into yours, the smallest amount of contact you could get away with already, and it wouldn't take much for him to decide that you weren't playing along.

"…your union will be sealed with a kiss."

Lord Dottore's shoulders squared instantly and you felt the tension run into his fingers, now feeling more like curled claws.  Fuck.  Of all things you had discussed…practiced, even (you stepped on his feet more times than you cared to consider and yet still had your feet).  Had both of you truly forgotten…

The longer neither of you moved, the worse this was going to be.  You felt expectant gazes and heard a soft wave of whispers.  Convincing.  This needed to appear true—

You let go of Dottore's hands and you were thankful that he took the cue to lift the edge of your veil.  Disappointment sunk in your stomach as he kept his head as level as possible, preventing you from sneaking a look up his mask.  You stepped forward to close the distance, cupping his cheek with your left hand before you tilted your head to the side and pressed your lips to his.  Fluid, smooth, natural.

That was your role, you reminded yourself.  It would take both of you to make this work.

His lips were soft, as warm as his hands (warmer, perhaps, you considered).  As human as any other person you kissed before.  You pulled away, catching a glimpse of his ears turning pink, before he ducked down and captured your lips again, finally back on track. 

He turned his head to break the kiss but didn't pull away immediately.

"Quite efficient, Accountant," Lord Dottore whispered.

His words tickled your neck and threatened to send a shiver down your spine.

The closest you would never get to gratitude.

Touring the city was excruciating.  In-between trying to put names to faces and track who was speaking to whom, you waved and smiled from the carriage window, thankful the gray clouds were holding off their inevitable snowfall.  Every stop meant a photo, meant standing too close to your husband, all the while hoping you came off as shy and dutiful rather than stiff and uncomfortable. 

The schedule left little time for breaks.  You managed to nurse a glass of water, fix your makeup, and gather your remaining strength as an attendant bustled your dress before you entered the Palace Ballroom, arm in arm with the Harbinger.

If your husband was a different person, you would have pushed back on his insistence to get the first dance out of the way as soon as you were in the room.  But you agreed with him and it was better to get it over with.

As rehearsed, you took your position, thankful all the while he had slid his gloves back on as soon as you were in the carriage hours ago.  Bad enough you had to be essentially pressed up against him for this.  You would rather eat glass than touch him again, especially if he was going to feel warmer than he truly was.

He smelled more pleasant than you usually experienced.  The lack of viscera and disinfectant helped.  This close, closer than you had been all day as he led exactly on beat, you caught hints of musk, along with sandalwood, mint. 

Dottore pulled you flush against him after spinning you out, angling his head towards the crook of your neck.

"Relax your shoulders," he muttered.  "You're resisting the rhythm and making this harder than necessary.  All that convincing work earlier can be undone quite easily, Accountant."

"Is that a threat, my lord?" you teased, passing off a playful smile.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth but it didn't stay long.  He was quiet in the carriage, professional.  Other than his vows, he barely said a word to you all day.

"For once, not from me."

You schooled your face, instead resting your chin on his shoulder as the mantle's feathers brushed against your cheek.  It was much softer than you expected.

What had you missed?  Other than perhaps appearing, as any person might, a little weary during the tour, you had been nothing but polite and warm during any interactions with guests. 

"Even one as erudite as myself knows to move with the music and the flow of the event.  Stop thinking, Accountant."

You tried to ignore the slight squeeze of his arm around you; it was a little too tight to be assuring.  Focusing on the music, a song you could hum in your sleep by now, you tried to relax your shoulders and hips and follow through with the sway of each step.  The song ended; its final note was cut short by the sharp sound of knives on glass.  You fought a grimace, realizing your guests were goading you to kiss again.

This time, the Harbinger was quicker, stealing your lips as soon as you lifted your head from his shoulder.

"Better," Dottore whispered as he pulled away.  "By the end of this, you might even fool yourself."

You threw him the same smile and demure look as you did in the jewelry store and fixed his cravat to stifle the urge to punch him.

"Are you sure I won't fool you, Lord Harbinger?"

"I'd like to see you try."

The socializing took the longest.  The Harbingers themselves, although never without a quip to throw, were civil enough.  You led most of the conversations once the two of you reached the tables of dignitaries and nobles, Dottore falling back to either have more in-depth discussions or to observe, as he often did.  Eventually, it was just you when he muttered something about getting air and you were determined to get greetings and gratitude off your plate before dinner.

Your head swam as you recalled every single face, every name, every seating arrangement.  It wasn't that different from data, from account numbers, balances.  No one would call you an extrovert by any means but the only thing keeping you going was the very knowledge that Dottore was not going to do it.  Such things were not worth his time.  Without his Segments in normal situations, he was protective of his time; now, it was your turn to fill in the gaps.

It took everything in you not to roll your eyes at yourself.  Your duty was to the people of Snezhnaya and beyond.  Your duty was your family.  This marriage was a means to an end.  You only played your part because if you didn't, the consequences were far, far worse than you wanted to consider. 

You were partway through the final table when you felt a hand on your elbow and you saw everyone at the table straighten considerably, as if they were puppets ready to perform.  Instead of any kind of introduction or pleasantry, however, Dottore turned his attention to you, his hold gentle.

"Dorogáya moya, come eat before your plate gets cold."

You felt your face flush at the use of the term, both at the familiarity and the double meaning.  Over the last few weeks, you learned that he was not a native to Sneznhaya, as you were, but he spoke the language so fluently one would never know.

With a smile, you let yourself be taken to the head table, where the first course of many sat waiting for you.  Your stomach grumbled at the sight of food.  You'd been hungry since before the ceremony.  Now that you looked, you noticed that the wait staff were well into bringing out dishes, carrying trays over their shoulder.

Funny that he would come find you when he left you alone to tackle the ridiculous social obligations of his station.  Then again, Lord Dottore couldn't exactly have you fainting at your own wedding. 

"So, I'm expensive, am I?" you asked, glancing through your peripheral at him as you took a long sip of water.

You half-entertained wine earlier but you needed your faculties and wits about you.  Water was best.

"If time was a currency, yes," Dottore turned his head to you, fork and knife still poised on the plate.  "Surely you can quantify how much of my time could be better spent on almost anything else."

"And surely you know how easily anyone could read into a Harbinger calling his new wife expensive as establishing an amazing matrimonial foundation."

Dottore tilted his head and raised a shoulder, a gesture you always took to mean silent acquiescence.  If you could see his eyes, you imagined his eyebrows would be rather expressive as well.

“I never cared for the opinions of others, especially those who never had to try to improve their life, such as most of our guests who were born into their position.  There is little reason for you to be anything beyond polite.  It is those closest who must be fooled, not the rest of the country.”

“All it would take—” you hissed.

“You’re forgetting who you married, Accountant.” Dottore gave you what anyone else would have called a charming smile. “Unlike you, they fear me.  Now eat.”

He needed you to cooperate but if he thought he was going to spend the next year commanding you around...arrogant, self-important, manipulative ass…

You kept your face neutral as you lifted a utensil, pushing away the thought of driving your fork into his leg.  It was the least he deserved. 

Flavor exploded in your mouth as you took a bite to eat.  Any other time, you might have reacted beyond simply reaching for another forkful from your plate.  The finest thing you tasted in months, years, and just like everything else, it was wasted on this moment.  A moment you would never get back. 

Funny how right he was.

Food helped.  Each of you played the part of doting newlywed, dancing, smiling, laughing.  You only ever heard Lord Dottore chuckle but never outright laugh.  It was almost sweet, how genuine the sound was.  Did he even realize it, you wondered, when the mask slipped and for a moment he appeared almost human?

Of course he did.  Nothing would ever get passed him.

Except you.

If you made it out of this alive.

It was no secret that a Harbinger's station meant a certain quality of life.  Estates of their own, entire wings within the Palace for work and for leisure.  After all, the Cryo Archon only had her Harbingers to dote on, who else would make use of the space, you often wondered.  Staff were well-compensated and taken care of but the stark contrast between your dormitory and living spaces compared to the soaring ceilings and marble pillars and gilded frames turned what little food you managed to keep down.

You weren't in charge of auditing the annual operating budget (that was exclusively for the Ninth himself) but you could estimate.  More than what you would make in your lifetime thirty times over, probably.

The walk from the ballroom to the far reaches of the Palace was shared in silence.  Exhaustion was woven into the very layers of your gown and by now face-planting into the bed, makeup and all, sounded like a wonderful idea.  After all, it was not as if anything about this arrangement was normal and Lord Dottore himself expected nothing, he had been quite clear about that from the beginning.

He was impossible to read right now, even for you.  Mouth in a flat line, shoulders back, arms behind him as he walked as if he were simply out for a stroll.  Without the context of a common discussion topic, mostly regarding his funding, you couldn't tell if he was simply bored, exhausted, or annoyed.  All three in a stormy cocktail seemed likely. 

The rooms themselves were as lavish as the rest of the Palace.  Opulent furniture that was dusted but never used filled the sitting room that you walked into, the walls lined with filled bookshelves.  Floor to ceiling windows revealed the usual white landscape and the mountains beyond while projecting your reflection back at you from the illumination of a nearby lamp.  Your bag, the singular container of all of your packed belongings sat on a sofa, as if discarded hastily.

Through a set of double-doors was a second private sitting room and the bedroom, as large as half of your entire dormitory floor.  Dark wood, flowing lines, clearly hand-crafted rather than assembled on a factory line.  Too many pillows on the bed. 

Did he even sleep?

The only details the space was even occupied were the books piled haphazardly on a coffee table, on a bureau, scraps of paper and blueprints scattered but clearly organized in a way that made sense to someone.  A coat strewn across a couch arm.  Mechanical parts and a small set of tools on a table where one might ordinarily hold a private dinner party.

You caught sight of a large closet and beyond it, a washroom, each room with their own set of double-doors to close the space off.  For a man as arrogant as Il Dottore, perhaps even vain (after all, who made clones of themselves if they weren't?), you expected far more clothes and shoes.  His budgets rarely, if ever, accounted for clothing unless it was for a specific occasion but that didn't mean much.  And you doubted he would have made room for your pitiful amount of belongings.

On one side of the closet was a large three-way mirror, the kind you dealt with at the seamstress, complete with a platform.  Obnoxious.  This felt out of place compared to the amount of space in the closet itself.  Unless, of course, he did his own tailoring or a Segment did.  Would explain the lack of receipts and mentions of it for his budget reviews.

You locked eyes with your own reflection and saw where your make-up was thinning, how your hair had finally succumbed to the weight of the product in it.  No matter how hard you tried to keep your eyes open, they seemed to have minds of their own; you were beyond tired at this point.

And the dress was finally taking its toll.  The lace was scratchy and the corset was digging into you.  Without thinking, you finagled your feet and removed your heels without bending over.  You closed your eyes, instantly relieved at the sensation of your heels sinking into the carpet.  The pain was still there but it nice to be on even ground again.

Your eyes snapped open when you felt slight tugging on the buttons of your dress and it took everything in you now to jump, nerves frayed and split.  Dottore looked up from behind you, mask still in place, and you could only presume he was making eye contact.  Harder to determine without facing him.

"Don't tell me you expected to reach every single button yourself, Accountant," he sneered.

"More like I didn't think you would help.  Not without prodding."

Dottore scoffed as he undid the buttons running the length of the dress and loosened the back stays of your corset.  He tugged slightly at your dress' sleeve but not enough to reveal your shoulders.  Never once did you feel the brush of his gloved hands on your skin. 

Dottore stepped back when he finished, your gaze remaining fixed on his mask.

"Polite for a man who stepped foot into my office covered in blood on more than one occasion," you remarked.

You were graced with the wide, vicious smile you knew so well, sharpened teeth gleaming.

"Go wash up, you smell like you wandered through a florist's nightmare."

He nodded his head in the direction of the bath but made no attempt to leave the dressing room.  You held back a grimace as a sound of disgust escaped your lips.

"You have such a charming demeanor, Lord Harbinger."

You gathered up your dress and entered the bathroom before he could remark further, shutting the doors behind you with the resounding clicks of the latch and lock.

The bathroom was tiled and just as ornate as the rest of the rooms: a large vanity with more counterspace than you ever saw in the dorms; a water closet for the toilet; a standalone shower; a tub that stood on its own feet and looked as if it was intended for at least two people, maybe more.  You were beginning to think there was no in-between in the Palace; either everything was utilitarian and functional or overly-decorative and wasteful of resources. 

Here too, you could only see a smattering of personal effects.  Signs the room was occupied but not necessarily used.  Curiously, you picked up a bottle and read the label once, twice, and then again, realizing it was actually some kind of acid and not a mouth rinse solution.  Whoever brought your things over from your dorm had at least been insightful enough to unpack your toiletries and you were thankful you would not risk burning off your scalp to wash your hair.

Just as you were rummaging around for your things, you noticed a bundle wrapped in soft tissue on a chair near the door.  Weird.  Was this for you?

You removed the rest of your jewelry and tugged gently on the lace sleeves, the upper body of the dress coming free without further resistance.  You stepped out of the dress, arranging the pile of tulle and lace neatly nearby before turning your attention back to the small package.

Gently, you pulled apart the paper.  From the pile of cloth, you plucked the top piece and held it up, frowning.  It left little to the imagination.  Same for the other half.  On the bottom was, you presumed, what was meant to be worn over the lingerie, made of the same fabric with a small bow on the back and ruffles on the hems.

To the credit of whoever put it there, it was very fine material.  The kind that was befitting of your newly acquired station.  Lace this soft and sheer was painstaking to make and couldn't be machine-replicated. 

There was no note in the packaging.

Lord Dottore held no expectations, you reminded yourself.  Had a servant put this here?  If so, on whose behalf?

You put the lace back down and ran the shower, adjusting the water as you ran through scenarios in your mind.

Was Dottore testing you?  Could he have only said such a thing to get you to agree?  If he'd changed his mind, it would have been more prudent to tell you.  On the other hand, telling you would allow you to prepare and he wasn't in the habit of allowing anyone, subject or not, to have time to skew results.  Plausible enough.

Or perhaps Pantalone, in his ever-insistent and nosy nature, had this planted here?  Considering the state of your ring situation, this was also viable.  He wasn't above planting evidence, arranging scenarios so they worked in his favor without fail.  From Lord Pantalone's perspective, Dottore acquiring a wife so soon after their deal was struck would have been immediately suspicious and potentially short-sighted, subject to various tests of his own...

Maybe it was neither and a servant or even a Segment thought the notion would be funny.

But it was too expensive for that.  No one paid that much mora on something without a purpose…or at least, most people didn't.  Your boss was, as always, the worst exception.

You stepped into the shower, ridding yourself of your makeup and perfume and the rest of the day's trappings.

As you stepped out of the shower, feeling at least a little more human, your stomach sank.

In your frustration with Dottore, you never grabbed a change of clothes. 

Because your bag was in the sitting room.

Your heart squeezed as you lamented your poor planning.  Really?  At this rate, you would be found out.  How the hell could you possibly think this was going to work when you didn't even grab your things and put them in the closet?

Why hadn't the one responsible for the task done that?  That just made sense!

You could walk out in a towel, go grab your things, and make it even more obvious that you were only doing this because, perhaps, you might get better intel. 

And while Lord Dottore wouldn't care about any of that, was it really necessary to make a show of how much you didn't want to show skin around him?  No. 

He thought well enough of your professionalism.  And part of that would be embracing the role you were supposed to play.  If a servant were to see you not in lingerie as befitting a wedding night, but in drab pajamas…whispers usually spread like wildfire on a good day.

You dried your hair as best you could, freshened up, nestled the lace against your skin.  While you weren't used to the cut of certain things, it wasn't uncomfortable per se.  Altogether, it was quite lovely. 

Another thing wasted on the wretch in the other room.

When you stepped back into the bedroom, you found Lord Dottore laying on the bed, covers pulled back as he scribbled into a book.  Even now, his mask was still present.  His hand stilled and he turned his head to you briefly to acknowledge your presence before he went back to what he was doing.

Steeling yourself, you crossed the room, crawled onto the bed, and straddled him.  He hadn't changed at all, only bothering to remove his jacket, cravat, and waistcoat.  Deftly, you grabbed the book from his hands and tossed it to the floor to force him to look at you.  He was solid and warm beneath you, the same as any other, and you tried not to think of how little separated the two of you, how bare you were under the lace.

Dottore tilted his head, lips pulling into a smirk for a moment before it spreads into a full-toothed grin, his hand reaching for and gripping your thigh.

A leg wrapped around yours and you met the bed quicker than you expected to, soft sheets and a firm mattress under you.  You blinked, Dottore's grinning face above you, never far from reach.  You felt a hand ghost over your side, your breast, your collarbone, before it settled on your neck, caressing your pulse point.  Despite your proximity, you never felt him press against you, not even when he brushed his lips over your cheek, where the faintest scar remained.

"I hardly you know, my dear.  Besides, I already told you that I have no expectations beyond those in public.  Such acts between us are quite unnecessary," he said.

Dottore rubbed his thumb up and down the column of your neck before he angled his head so his lips were near your ear.

"Unless, of course, you're simply needy enough to put yourself in the maw of a wolf so easily for a quick reprieve.  You never struck me as the sort but I suppose there's a first time for everything."

Heat flooded your cheeks at the insinuation but before you could protest, the Harbinger rolled off of you and out of the bed.  He bent down, picked up the book, and made his way to the door to the sitting room.  For a moment, Dottore looked at the leather-bound cover in his hands before he turned his attention back to you.

"There is little need for someone as lovely as you to give more than is asked to a monster such as myself.  We leave at daybreak."

Oh.  Right.  Honeymoon.  He took care of that and you still had no idea where you were even going.

Without another word, the doors shut, leaving you alone in the large bedroom.  Light bled in through the bottom of the doors.  No doubt he would be awake a while longer. 

You clutched at the bedspread, embroidered with silk and stuffed with down.  It gave easily under your hands, as such soft feathers often did, providing nothing substantial to squeeze.  You weren't insulted or even hurt, as many others in your position would have been.  Confused, certainly, but your ego was intact.

Seduction wasn't precisely a skill you practiced.  Numbers told stories in unique variations and patterns and provided more consistency than people.  People were unpredictable.  Il Dottore especially.

You fell asleep, wondering when all of this would come back to bite you.

My sheep kills with love 🖤✨

(Lol)

I found this sheep mc maker picrew made by gracedcoup. So....um anyone wants to make sheep mc?

Here's mine!

Tagging (no pressure to do it) : @kannra21 @nerdy-talks @keiskyutie @leviathans-watching @trashy-corvian and anyone who wants to join!

Roses - Lucifer

Crown Prince! Lucifer x GN!Reader

[✧] ー Just a short scenario with soft Luci <3 set in victorian era. Reader is GN because my man doesn't care about gender. Let's imagine love between the same sex wasn't taboo, alright? Danke :3

[✧] ー Reader is also innocent and of course, adhered to the society's beliefs and etiquette. (Did I use the word 'adhere' correctly? My first time doing it and it's so late already goodness me.)

Summary: Lucifer wishes to give his lovely betrothed a sweet little kiss. But it seems like they're not really up for it. Oh well, his beloved has a very endearing idea to solve this problem.

The two of you had been courting for a while now, and had yet to share any intimate moment. It was given of course. The both of you had decided to keep everything until your wedding. That way, it would be more special. It would hold much more meaning than something either of you could get anytime they wished.

Being engaged to the crown prince seemed perfect from afar, but it was harder than what it looked. Eyes were on you n matter where you went, and danger lurked around anywhere you stepped at. It was only natural for the crown to have enemies too, no matter how silent they were. But at the end of the day, the stress was worth it. Both for you, and your Lucifer.

"Is it appropriate for us to be alone like this, dearest?" You asked, gazing around at the private garden of his castle. You had heard from many of those servants just how mesmerizing the garden was, designed and cared after by Lucifer himself, but you had never seen it on your own. At least, not until now. The garden was truly a sight, with black and red flowers filling the ground, and the trees full of colorful blossoms. Even the rest of decoration, such as the marble fountain and the vases added to the garden's beauty.

Still, it was no appropriate for an engaged couple to be alone together without the supervision of an elder. You looked back at Lucifer, awaiting his reply. You didn't want to get on his nerves, but you knew that he cared about etiquette a lot too.

"Do not worry yourself, precious." He spoke calmly, putting an arm around your waist with a hint of possessiveness as he guided you to the center and near the fountain. "I just wished to have a private moment with my lovely betrothed."

You nodded, not that calmed down by his way of reassuring you. It wasn't long before you had let go of his arm and began admiring all the different and magical kinds of flowers in his garden. Of course, you didn’t expect any less of a private garden that was only for Lucifer, your beloved fiance. A certain rose caught your eyes in the midst of black roses and flowers. It had fallen down from its place, not having the natural glow of other roses but having its own kind of messages. Like a deep story hidden within those red petals. You bent down, picking it up and staring at it lovingly. 

Lucifer couldn’t help but gaze at you as you stared at the fallen rose, wondering what you were thinking that had you so deep in thought. He stepped a little closer, peering at the rose. He saw nothing special with the fallen rose, unlike you. 

“Your eyes.” You looked up from the rose and towards him, handing the rose to him. Fallen, like your fallen star. Red, like his ruby eyes. And magnifying, even at its worst.  “It is the same shade as your eyes, Lucifer.”

Lucifer’s eyebrows lifted up as he took the rose from you. Although he couldn’t help but smile when you said that. You were such a lovely little creature, always thinking of him before everything else. His eyes moved from the rose towards you, stepping even closer. Close enough to make you just slightly uncomfortable. You wouldn’t push him away, though, as you did crave his touch as much as he craved yours. “How very observant, beloved. Would you like me to speak of my own observations?” 

He then put the rose behind your ear, making sure the thorns wouldn’t hurt you. He couldn’t help but find your innocent smile lovely, in that moment.The Elegant prince cupped your cheeks, the pair of red roses residing in his eyes looking into your own gems. "You look so precious, love. Did you know that?” 

You knew where this was headed. He wanted to tease you, make you blush, and have you a stuttering mess. You then noticed his loving gaze on your lips and not your eyes. He continued. “May I kiss you, my sweet?” 

"But... it is not appropriate..." You whispered softly. But you had an idea how to do it, not to disappoint your fiance. You wanted that kiss too, after all, even if you would never admit it. You brought the rose out of your hair and put it on your lips, looking into his eyes softly. “Let us do it this way for now, until the day the bells of matrimony ring above us.” 

Lucifer opened his eyes in surprise, as he saw the red rose on your lips. It was something he never expected and he was both surprised and pleased to see that you still cared for your innocence and proper etiquette, even so much so that you wouldn't let just anyone get a taste of your lips, not even your soon to be spouse. Lucifer then smiled warmly, while still caressing your cheek. "Thank you, my beloved. You are right, this isn't appropriate, but a rose like yourself deserves a kiss nonetheless." 

Lucifer then pressed his lips gently against the rose, his hands holding yours as you held on the rose’s stem. 

A sweet and innocent kiss, for his true love. For his beloved betrothed, and the one he chose to share his life with. As soon as he pulled away, he put the rose back on your hair like a hairpin. You were truly his, and he was glad to have such a caring little betrothed on his side. He grasped both of your hands and brought them to his lips, planting a soft kiss on the back of them. 

“Until the bells of matrimony ring above us, my darling. I shall only wait and dream of that day.” 

Check it out! [cursed records] [sweet dreams] [heavenless]

reblog the money pigeon for a financially stable future

I need to give this prescription to Satan, it will calm him down.

Your daily dose of cat memes

Alucard By shoriori

random texts w/ lucifer

includes: lucifer x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

rated t | m.list

a/n: i plan to do these with a few more characters but if there’s someone you really want to see, lmk!! my inbox is open to chat, leave feedback, or request so come say hi!

warnings: spoilers for chapters ~60 & onward in image 7, cursing

please reblog 😱😱😻🙏

Lur The Lurs community is made up of modern-day Iranians living in the mountainous region of Luristan in the Zagros range. There are several branches of Lurs, united by the common Luri language (part of the same language family as Kurdish and Farsi). The relative inaccessibility of this mountainous region has meant that many practices have been preserved over centuries and even millennia, specifically performance traditions kept alive by travelling musicians. Traditional costumes for men include rounded felt hats and a wool wrap vest called a chugha (woven primarily by Bakhtiari Lurs). Today, most Lurs practice small-scale agriculture and local herding.

Levi | Asmo | Beel | Belphie

Contextualizing info below the cut:

Roughly three months ago, Obey Me's team released this picture as a new merch set. This is almost a year after they released their "Lamp" event with similarly disappointing costumes. I am not the first (and I hope will not be the last) to identify this as a misguided attempt to "exoticize" these characters to sell a product, with the end result being an ill-thought-out lumping together of the many cultures of southwestern Asia and northern Africa (SWANA) under one "oriental" blanket. I'm not going to quote Said at you guys (though, if you're interested, check out a pdf here and a p good breakdown of the concepts here), nor am I going to condemn the entire OM team to shouts of "racist!” based on this alone (this is one of the least offensive things they've done, tbh). Instead, let's explore what those costumes could have looked like as an opportunity to educate and spread knowledge about the rich cultures traditionally inhabiting this region!

**none of these culture-character associations are based on any actual character traits or respective sins**

shared controllers - chapter 1 [a jjk streamer au]

plot summary: gojo satoru is one of the most famous faceless gaming streamers in the industry. under the pseudonym 6 eyes, he constantly dominates ranking charts and enjoys a life of relative ease and comfort. you are an up and coming streamer who decides to raid his stream one day - but to her demise, he brushes her off. or so she thought…

cw: suggestive content. smut in later chapters (minors DNI). female reader intended (but no descriptions of body type, hair, etc.)

wc: 3.6k // pairing: streamer!gojo x streamer!reader

a/n: this is a rewrite of my first ever fanfic that i posted in january 2023. i’m working on rewriting and reposting them in a queue, probably in batches of 3 chapters at a time. no y/n use (i put ___ to denote reader). some usernames have spaces between the @, i did that to prevent actual ppl with that username from being tagged lol

stream lingo: a stream deck is a piece of hardware that allows you to transition between stream presets and apps on your computer. raiding someone means taking your viewership and dropping them on another person who is currently streaming, signaling you’re done for the night. mmo is short for massive multiplayer online game. moba is short for multiplayer online battle arena. vod is short for video on demand, which is when someone’s stream is saved for later viewing

Enter Player 1 … loading … @ pastelvoid // ___

“That’s all it took?!” 

You cursed at your screen before sighing and setting the controller down. After several hours, you had been struggling to grind levels in the underwater mines of your favorite farming sim Reef Village, and you managed to hit the last miniboss and complete a checkpoint. You smoothed your hair over and reached back to grab your controller and enter the save screen. 

“Ahhh, finally!!! I can end my stream now knowing I’m in a good place to come back to.” You smiled, made eye contact with your webcam and waved. “Well, thank you so much for staying with me! I hope you had a fun time watching me die over and over again because of my god tier skills.” You rolled your eyes slightly - your online brand of humor leaned on the self aware side, which your viewers appreciated. 

“Let’s find someone to raid, shall we?” You hit a button on your stream deck, transitioning to the “end of stream” screen and scrolled through the available list of followed users. Your eyes scanned through the icons, some grayed out due to inactivity, and some saturated to show their online status, and your breath got stuck in your throat. 

Well…I guess I could try.

You glanced at your viewer count, this was one of your more successful streams with 57 active viewers. And you knew his minimum raid viewer count was 50, so you barely squeaked by with enough to be able to raid his stream. But was it worth it though? 

“What do you think guys, should I raid @6eyesdomain? He’s active right now.” You started to swivel nervously in your office chair. “M-maybe…I don’t know.” You mumbled and scrolled through your chat.

Chat – 

@tenderhammer - do it girl!!! He’ll totally see you and say something!! 

@2brothers1sisterdoll  - yea i second that, this is your chance >:3

@strongestkiller6002 - ngl, he might blow you off

That last comment had you sit up a bit straighter. “Yeah, ‘strongest killer’ he could do that. But it doesn’t hurt to try right?” You sucked in a breath. “Well, what the hell. Let’s do it!” You typed in your chat your standard raid message you always left for your viewers to announce their arrival.

“Howdy folks! Your stream has been invaded by the void, and she’s staring back at you!” 

Your message was modeled after your gamer tag, @ pastelvoid. It was a slightly cringy username you came up with in high school, but you grew to love your little name and designed your entire streaming and gaming brand around it. 

“Now you can copy paste that and spam his chat, but don’t go overboard please! I don’t want to make Mr. 6 Eyes or any of his mods mad. Let me add some of my emotes too.” You copied in a few of your favorite emotes to make the message less threatening. “I’ll see you on Friday now, 6pm sharp!! Bye y’all!” You waved more vigorously at your screen for a few seconds, and then hit the end stream button and the raid button consecutively. 

Phew…you finally took off your headphones and relaxed back in your chair. You needed a bathroom break from sitting in the same place for several hours, so you got up, took your leave and grabbed your phone on the way to your bathroom. But before you did, you tuned into @6eyesdomain’s channel just as your raid notification hit his stream. 

User @6eyesdomain, known colloquially as 6 Eyes, was considered a god of gamers in human form, and one of your favorite streamers. He was and is one of the strongest competitive gamers in the nation; famous for his former affiliation to Team Jujutsu, one of the highest ranked esports teams internationally. As one of its star players, he always placed first in every solo match of Gogol Arenas, League of Tartarus - every mainstream MMO or MOBA game you could think of, he could secure a top ranked spot. But he largely remained a solo streamer, never opting to play cooperatively with his fellow Jujutsu members. He retired after two years on the team, and remained a fully independent entity. The biggest reason for his solo game style was simple: he never plays with his camera on, so no one publicly knows what he looks like. He never attended public events either, the most he would do is show up as a tv screen with a big picture of his avatar displayed on the screen while he talked. His only indicator of a “physical appearance” was that he always played with a shittily-drawn chibi avatar of a man with white hair and black sunglasses. There were many speculations as to why he never revealed his face on stream, but no theories were ever substantial enough. 

6 Eyes wouldn’t know how much he meant to you. It was the nature of parasocial relationships, and you understood that. Especially after you worked so hard to develop your career as a streamer, it took you 2 years to surpass 10 average viewers! But nonetheless, you turned up the volume on your phone and heard on full blast:

“Oh, @ pastelvoid is raiding me? Lol ok.” A short pause. “Thanks I guess.” Another short pause. “OH SHIT! Thank you so much for the $150 dono, @himebluehair!!!” And he continued on with his game. 

You sat on the toilet, feeling your heart sink. Damn, that’s all I get? I mean yeah, I didn’t have like 500 or 1000 viewers, I get that. But he could’ve at least been more enthusiastic. Maybe he didn’t like my raid message. Maybe my viewers spammed too much. Strongest killer was right. Ugh –

You weren’t really in the mood to watch the rest of 6 Eyes’ stream anyway - while you understood he didn’t hurt you directly, the way he brushed off your viewers still kinda hurt. 

Your night was pretty much over anyway, so you began your normal nighttime routine, watched a few episodes of your favorite comfort anime and went to sleep. What you didn’t know however, is what was happening on the other side of that screen at the same time. 

Enter Player 2 … loading … @6eyesdomain // Gojo Satoru

There are two types of high-ranked players in the gaming industry. Humans who play with gods, and gods who play with humans. Gojo Satoru is the latter. He grew up with a cushy lifestyle, constantly being attended to, never having to worry about a thing. But he didn’t care for a life of being catered to. He wanted to carve out a life where he could earn respect by toying with an unconventional creative outlet. Hence, video games. Male gamers are traditionally seen as scrubby edgelords, fishing greasy chips out of a bag, yelling slurs and living in their mom’s basement with no hope of achieving a normal healthy life. 

Not Gojo. 

Gojo could have it all, if he wanted. He understood that intrinsically, but he held back. He never showed his face, not for fear of appearances, or any of the common fan theories. He just wanted to distance himself from the weight his name carried in the real world. He loved the attention, and he loved toying with his viewers and engaging in a fair amount of vocal fan service. He knew the ethics were messy at best, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to remain the best, and he didn’t have to work very hard to maintain that #1 status across all the games he touched. 

When the initial message popped up in his chat “user @ pastelvoid has raided your stream with 57 viewers!” He brushed it off. But only for a split second. On a second monitor, he right clicked on your username, opened your channel and profile in a new tab where his stream couldn’t see and set it aside for later. He thought the message was silly - a void? Staring back at me? He huffed as he continued to steadily gun down a line of infected military officers in the story-driven apocalypse game he was playing. 

I’ll check their profile later. After stream. 

He continued to spray pixel bullets on screen, fingers calmly and quickly spamming buttons left and right to maximize the hit combos. After another hour of streaming, he ended the way he usually did - a brief “Thanks for joining everyone. I’ll see you around, six times over. Bye!” And shut down his stream. Gojo pushed his chair out, stretched his legs and arms, and grabbed the tab from his second monitor with your profile and channel and dragged it into his primary monitor. He went through your most recent VOD and scrolled up until the point where you were about to raid his stream. 

Oh. Yikes. 

He realized his aloof nature did not pay off this time. He saw the moments where you were nervous on camera, your hands fiddling with your hoodie straps when you asked your chat whether it was a good idea or not. Every micro-expression you made on camera, down to the fidgeting, the anxious lip-chewing, he picked up on all of that. A slight pang hit his chest, and Gojo realized he made a severe error. He went through his chat settings, and found your chat history. 

@ pastelvoid stats loading … 

Four year follower. 10 month tier-1 subscriber. 99+ messages. 

He read through almost every message you had ever sent in his chat. Most were supportive, some were really funny - he actually cackled at some of your jokes, they made him remember times that brought him genuine joy. A few were cringy, but hey, every viewer has some dumb moments. Gojo cracked a small smile at his screen, before reality set in. 

I must’ve ruined her night. Fuck. He sucked a breath in between his teeth, before running a hand through his bright white hair in frustration. Gojo averaged anywhere between 2500-7000 viewers per stream, so while he was used to the blinding speed of his chat (even with slow mode enabled), he didn’t have time to emotionally dedicate himself to every single message. When he was a smaller streamer, pre-Jujutsu team fame, he used to be very enthusiastic about every donation, every raid, and every new subscriber. Now, because viewers and donations were in abundance, he didn’t care to celebrate every milestone. 

Seeing your past messages made him nostalgic for a simpler time. Gojo ended up scrubbing through a few of your recent stream VODs. While your streams were not centered on competitive play like his, you were clearly engaged with your few dozen viewers and you seemed to enjoy yourself with the games you chose. Your streams were typically centered on farming life and dating sim games, taking on a more “cozy gamer” vibe with your pastel purple and white setup in your room. Gojo ended up watching through several more of your uploaded clips and highlights from previous streams, and when he glanced at his clock again, the time read 2:37am. 

“Holy shit! Time flew by, huh?” He mumbled to himself, as he went to click out of your profile. But as his mouse hovered over the X button on the window, he rubbed his eyes and his hand snapped back on his mouse. He wanted to watch more, but he had to sleep. He ended up minimizing the window, but not before he checked your upcoming stream schedule. 

Friday, 6pm. Got it. 

Gojo set a reminder on his phone, and canceled his stream that day so he could watch. He pulled off his t-shirt and jumped right into his messy, unmade bed and curled up in the covers. 

She seems nice. Wonder if she’s like that in real life or just online. His eyes slowly fell, and before he realized, he was totally unconscious. 

As Friday rolled around, you came back from your work shift at 5pm, dropping your bags at the door of your apartment.

When you headed to your room, you dropped everything in your hands, and went through your initial setup before going back into the kitchen. You didn’t have enough time to cook, so you microwaved and scarfed down a container of leftovers from the other day, and headed back into your room. After peeling off your work uniform and bra, you changed into some comfier shorts and a tank top. You peered at your chest poking through the thin top, and realized you were gonna be on camera in less than 30 minutes. 

“Yeah, I should probably throw a hoodie over this.” You dug through your closet, found an old hoodie and without looking at it, you threw it on. After retouching some of your makeup from earlier in the day, you turned on your ring lights, opened up your broadcasting software, and hit the “begin stream” button. It was customary for you to begin your stream off camera with an animated welcome screen, so that gave you a couple minutes to finish up some last minute preparations and for your viewers to pour in. 

A few minutes after you had everything set up, you changed the scene on your stream deck, and your normal layout appeared online. “Howdy folks, Pastel Void here. If you’re new, you can call me by my full username, or Miss Void or PV. I don’t mind either!” You continued on with your regular welcome message, you had no need for rehearsals - introducing yourself was an effortless task for you. “I see some regular viewers, hello ‘tender hammer’! Hi ‘strongest killer’!” You stopped to greet a few of your regulars before continuing. “I apologize for my appearance today, I just wanted to be comfy honestly. Had a long week of work and yesterday really tired me out.” You began to create a poll in your stream for your viewers to choose your upcoming game. 

“Let’s see, more Reef Village or shall we try this new game I got? A new dating sim by Todo Smiles was published recently and I finally got around to purchasing it!” You waited for the responses to collect in. “Ok…it’s looking like we’re going with the new game! Let’s gooooo!” You said as you loaded up your console and made sure the capture card was working. “It’s called “The Curse of Infinity, and it’s a harem game! You know those are my favorite!” You giggled to yourself, adjusting the microphone so it was closer to you. As you checked your chat you saw a message float through that got your attention.

@yojogurt: nice hoodie! A sixeyesdomain classic I see

You glanced at your chat and saw Yojo’s message and your heart stuttered. That’s when you glanced down and saw you were wearing an old merch hoodie of Mr. 6 Eyes himself. It was a black hoodie with an embroidered panel in the middle, with a really fancy vintage-style anime drawing of his avatar. You laughed uproariously, and it was at this point that Gojo tuned into your stream. He settled into his luxury gaming chair and put you on fullscreen, right as you in the middle of your laugh. 

“I didn’t realize, oops! Well whatever, pssh. That bitch doesn’t care about me, I raided 6 Eye’s stream the other night and he didn’t really acknowledge me at all.” You replied nonchalantly as you pulled up the loading screen for your dating sim. 

Gojo’s eyes widened and somewhere, he felt a distant stab in his chest, followed by a flash of anger. “Wow, right back at ya bitch.” He grumbled, ready to exit your stream. He was glad he didn’t follow you yet, he almost clicked out but then you continued. 

“Well…that’s not totally true. He did read my raid message, but he only gave me like 2 seconds before someone gave him a big donation. So obviously he’s gonna prioritize that over me.” You felt the tendrils of insecurity begin to creep in, but you did your best to brush it off and continue. “I shouldn’t have been so optimistic, you know? He’s so famous he doesn’t really have time to be excited over a 50-something viewer raid. He probably gets hundreds more viewers from his former Jujutsu partners if they raid.” You sighed. “But it is what it is. I don’t hate him for it, but I have to admit, it stung.” As you were talking, you began a new save file, inputting your gamer tag and customizing your character to look like you. 

On Gojo’s side of the screen, he shrunk away and didn’t click out after all. “She has a point.” He mumbled to himself. She’s actually being pretty mature about it, she could’ve easily held it over me and unsubscribed. At this point, he switched over to his secret alt account, one that not even his former Jujutsu members knew about, and continued watching. Plus she’s cute in my merch.

“Well anyway, let’s see what our protagonist has to choose from.” You pulled your hood up and began your gameplay, narrating in your silly voices you used to entertain your viewers. In a quieter voice, you mumbled “To be honest, I only pulled on the hoodie because I didn’t want to wear a bra haha.”

Now that made Gojo’s heart leap. Oh, so you talked like that on stream? How bold. His lips curled into a smirk, and he pulled his chair into his desk so he could close the distance between himself and the monitor. 

“Let’s see what we’re working with, ok?” You sped through the lore so you could get to the cast of male characters who could be your potential love interest in-game. Since the game was fantasy themed, all the characters had elaborate outfits and were beautifully rendered. “So we have this guy, he looks like your typical samurai warlord. Mysterious, long black hair in a bun, a classic.” You scrolled through each character’s stat sheet to get a sense of who you wanted to pursue. “A dark gnome warlock, ooo tempting. And he has a purple and white color scheme, love that.” You continued on. “Umm, who else is calling me–?” You stopped at the last character in the lineup. 

The character had stark white long hair, and deep azure eyes that sparkled when you hovered over his artwork. He was wearing a loose, navy and gold-accented tunic with his chest half out, covered in intricate black tattoos and you almost drooled over his immaculately drawn pecs. “Hmmm…this one seems like a man slut. But in a good way. What’s his bio?” You hover again. “His character info says he’s a high elf banished from his tribe. Sounds fun! What else? He’s intensely charismatic publicly, but has difficulty opening up to people privately…yeah. Let’s pursue him!” You glance at your hoodie again, realizing the irony. You take this opportunity to stare directly at your camera. 

“Well, if I can’t get Mr. 6 Eyes in real life, I’ll just have to settle for this guy!” You laughed again, and began grinding away in your game. 

At this point, Gojo is metaphorically (or perhaps literally) shaking in his boots. He knows you don’t know what he looks like. But the character you picked, it was too uncanny. And your brazen nature…well, he wasn’t thinking clearly anymore. He grabbed his computer mouse and violently clicked the follow button with his alternate account. 

On your screen, your follower notification popped up - 

@hallowedpurpleGS followed you!

“Oh, hi hallowed purple GS! Thanks for following.” You smiled and continued on with your game. “Hope you enjoy my stream, I just found this fun dating sim and will be playing it for the rest of today.” You coughed slightly, briefly interrupting the flow of your speaking. “You know how it is in anime and dating sims, it’s always the white-haired guys who get the most bitches. And I’m no exception.” You cackled out loud, sounding more like a gremlin than anything. 

Gojo could feel a second heartbeat beginning to develop in his jeans. His breathing became shallower and he dug around on his desk for a water bottle, grasping it and chugging the rest of its contents. As soon as he finished it, he gulped a couple deep breaths of air and tried to clear his head. 

“You’re really testing me, huh? Fine. Two can play at that game.” He fished around for his wallet, and scrolled on your profile finding the donate button for your stream. On your side, you heard an unfamiliar notification sound and your eyes bulged out of your head. 

@hallowedpurpleGS donated $100! 

Message: You’re right, white-haired guys do get the most bitches. Wanna prove it? 

Your competitive streak kicked in. “Hell yeah I do. Thank you hallowed purple for the donation, that was incredibly generous. For that amount of money, you could get me to do some crazy things haha.” You smirked and crossed your legs and the camera angle caught a bit of that bare skin. Gojo gulped again, and he felt his mouth begin to salivate. 

Oh…crazy things huh? We’ll have to see about that. 

dividers by @cafekitsune, @saradika and @benkeibear

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