#like even if youre with the fact that the worship of a false god is betrayal

[crumblinggothicarchitecture]

Swift is neither tortured nor a poet. She’s just a spoiled little grifter who wants everyone to worship her.

She is literally talking about idol worship in at least two of her songs.

"False God"

"Clara Bow"

In both she is discussing being the center of worship- and arguably she has a much longer list of songs in which she wants to plainly be the center of attention:

"Mirror Ball"

"Anti-Hero"

"Master mind"

"Bejeweled"

Even in the songs where is she seemingly lamenting the bad attention- she denotates that thought with her "Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?" song in which she says, "if you wanted me dead, you should've just said/ nothing makes me feel more alive" (2024). Putting aside the obvious theatrical melodrama (no, Taylor Swift your critics don't want you dead- good grief) and focusing on the fact that over and over again she stirs up old drama for the sake of keeping the attention focused on her- this narrative of "I swear I don't love the drama/ it loves me" ("End Game") falls flat.

I do agree with your conception that she is a grifter- especially in her early work in which she was always singing about a "small town" and "kitchen tables" like she really tried so hard to write about the mundane hoping it would attract the middle class- "average joe" audience. A thousand country singers have used the same grift before her.

Despite neither being from a small town nor having humble beginnings- Swift thinks that if she just drops enough imagery suggestive of mid-to lower class aesthetics in her music, we will all just automatically relate to her. I will be going into detail on this soon- because there is a real rhetorical device at work here, and this gives me an excuse to talk about reader-response literary theory. I never get to talk about this theory in my real-life job lol :) so stayed tuned hahah

#anti taylor swift #taylor swift criticism #fuck taylor swift #ex swiftie #anti swifties #literary criticism #reader response criticism

[theshoesofatiredman]

Thinking about the people who worshipped the golden calf. What did they need that caused them to construct a new god to bow before? What prayers were going unanswered that caused the people to go to their leader and demand new gods be created?

When they buried the bodies of the people slain by the Levites, did they dig each one a grave? Or did they decide that despite being their family and neighbors, their people had, in their iniquity, forfeited the right to anything but a mass grave? Did they form the sinners into a burning pyre, the stench of burning flesh stretching out for miles in the desert?

How many of the dead were children? How many of the living were orphans? When the plague came to punish those who remained, did the sick wish they had gone by the sword instead?

#i cant get the horror of this story out of my head #3000 dead #idk i cant see how anyone not already indoctrinated could read this and not be horrified #like even if youre with the fact that the worship of a false god is betrayal #the slaughter of so many seems like an over the top reaction

[centrally-unplanned]

The thing about morality is that it only matters when it's real. Discussions of rules or norms for what is right or wrong are almost always, at some level, illusions, approximating reality and guiding decisions in an uncertain world - which does not make them useless, just contextual. Profaning god in your bedroom can never be “wrong” - there is no one to hear you, no one to be hurt by it. You can only show something is really wrong from the intentions of the actions and their results.

So with that out of the way, lets talk about Knives Chau - and specifically, how the comic vs the anime handled that part of the story.

Scott Pilgrim vs The Reification of Dating a High Schooler

There is an extremely pervasive meme in Scott Pilgrim discourse that our titular Scott is a scumbag. Our returning whipping boy the Kotaku article loves this idea, describing Scott’s “detestable behavior” and wondering “was it too subtle the first time about Scott being an absolute shitbag?”. There is this viral headline screenshot from an interview floating around right now riding that same line:

Which is, of course, pretty much false. Its up to you in the end, “shitbag” is a subjective description, but the story just isn’t about events that would be described that way. Its the story of a guy getting over an awful ex, hurting some people, then meeting a new person, and realizing step-by-step what it takes to be their partner and levelling up as a person each time he does. He starts off broken, and Ramona of course is just as broken - getting better is their mutual arc. And its fundamentally about relationship drama - those stakes don’t make you a scumbag lol, just clueless, unless you are terminally online and don’t know what real stakes are.

I will let O’Malley get the last word in with his quote the writer of that interview is hilariously trying to torture into his headline:

There's a bit of, like, young people see Scott Pilgrim a certain way, and, you know, there's a lot of, like, 18-19-year-old fans that are really judgmental of the character. They're like, "Oh, he's a bad person. I would never do that." But I always tell them, like, get back to me when you're 25 or 30, tell me how your 20s went. Were you a bad person? Everyone has to make choices and do things in life that maybe they're not going to be proud of later.

Scott is a scumbag the way everyone is - you yourself will likely commit similar sins; that at least seems to be the authorial intent, and I agree with it.

So how does dating Knives Chau slot into this?

Despite the memes, age, in fact, is just a number - two consenting people dating does not a sin make. The reason dating underage people is bad is because of its consequences, not the categorical imperative. So what are the consequences of dating Knives Chau in the comic?

Knives is, as a consequence of dating a guy who is simply via his age able to appear so much cooler than her peers to her, absolutely obsessed with Scott. She worships his band:

She starts aping his taste in music and interests; she slots herself into his circle of friends, who don’t relate to her, even after their breakup (often drinking her way through it):

She totally spirals after he cheats on her and leaves her, blaming everyone but him; she is wounded and hurt for months, a year, over a relationship that lasted weeks:

Knives Chau is a literal poster child for why you should not date a high schooler. She is, at every turn, emotionally not ready to date someone who is not at her own level of social development, and is deeply affected by it. It is, sometimes, played for laughs - that is the nature of the comic, everything is played for laughs, but I would have given it a bit more dramatic space myself - but over the course of the story Scott himself realizes how much of an ass he was to her, and how he didn’t take what happened seriously.

The reason I view this with charity is what Scott did to lead to this - he met a cute girl on the bus! He was deeply hurt and kind of numb in life, and found someone who was safe and easy to talk to. He never attempts to kiss her (she starts trying to kiss him which he repeatedly rejects) they don’t even hold hands, and it lasted a few weeks. He knew deep down, pretty much immediately, it was fake:

Then he met an actual person he liked, and with some browbeating from Wallace agreed to break up with her, but chickened out for a day. Then the next day he decides to break up with her, and she drops the L bomb before he can, so he instantly ends it. It is really awkward for everyone involved.

Pushing off an awkward and uncomfortable conversation resulting from a dumb decision you made on a whim for a week - god I relate to that, that’s everyone! If you think it isn’t you I think you're lying. Its why this relationship is so interesting in the comic - Scott is always one step removed from it, putting it at abeyance, and the fact that something so minor to him is so destructive to her is a really good portrait of how these kinds of things happen. Its so easy to hurt someone when you don’t even know what the stakes are, and when its coming not from malice, but from weakness. Its a very good portrayal of a bad relationship because its bad in a relatable way, even if as a story is a bit more dramatic than is typical. And its a great portrayal of how fraught age gaps can be - this bad relationship is part of what makes the comic a good story.

But its 2023, we don’t give a shit about any of that anymore!

O’Malley in the same interview discusses the cultural shift around these kind of relationships:

I felt like in this day and age, I had to provide clarity on that [relationship]. Because when I wrote the first books, I took it for granted that people would understand that dating a high schooler was a bad thing. But on the internet, in this day and age, people are like, "He's dating a high schooler. That's terrible!" Like, that's pretty much what I say on page 1 of the book. But I try to spell it out a little bit more this time.

He isn’t telling the full story though - it was bad in 2004, but not bad the way it is today. Its dubiousness was mitigated by its frequency; people were doing this kind of shit all the time. Scott Pilgrim is a bass guitarist in an indie band; fucking groupies is like built into the cover charge. Half the problem Scott has in dating Knives is that she is the wrong kind of 17-year-old - had Scott met her at 1 am in the aftermath of a Born Ruffian’s concert at the Whippet Lounge knocking down shots off the back of her fake ID, no one would have even noticed. Hell, no one does notice; there is someone who actually makes out with a drunk 17-year-old Knives Chau in the comic Scott Pilgrim, and isn’t Scott Pilgrim:

No one cares about Kim’s inebriated petting session here; that is 10% because she is a Girl and Girls Can’t Be Predators, 40% because she isn’t the main character, and 50% because Kim Pine’s dating history is not a useful proxy battleground for GamerGate-adjacent nerd culture wars in ~2014; but that is road that goes directly to hell, so let's veer back.

The point, of course, is that in 2004 this is a crime flecked with normality, something your friend would do and you would maybe just cock an eyebrow at:

Its not that in discourse today - it is radically more condemned. It is not a contextual sin, but an original sin. It underwent a process I am calling reification - where it goes from being just a shifting descriptor of reality, to a thing in itself, with a defined (reified) meaning. And to be clear, that is in a lot ways on net a good thing? The reality is that, despite everyone’s protestations, there are today thousands of 17-year-olds taking the L line out to a gig at the Brooklyn Steel and going down on a 25-year-old guy they just met in a back alley off Frost St who swears he’s a “drummer in a sick new band” that played here “just last week”, he promises, and she is having a great time, bragging to her friends about how hot his tattoo was, and then shipping herself off to Cornell next year to start on her pre-med track with barely a memory. But for every dozen of those, there is at least one person who is deeply, deeply hurt, a Knives Chau who never deserved this. The rest can have a slightly worse time, its probably worth it.

That does not make it a categorical imperative, though - the reification has masked that truth. The crime comes from the context - those other girls aren’t victims, they would laugh at you for suggesting they were. But in 2023, Scott Pilgrim Takes Off is no longer concerned with context. It is telling you, right to your face, that Scott is a bad dude. Over and over and over - jokes from the Evil League about “wow, I thought we were evil”, its not subtle.

Yet meanwhile, Knives Chau is, like, fine? She dates Scott, is totally into him, and then literally in the middle of his funeral forgets about him for Envy crashing it:

Picks up the bass and has yuri-inflected playtime with Kim the literal next day:

And less than a week later is pitching an off-broadway musical adaption of Scott’s life to a billionaire Matthew Patel - I can’t explain that okay, I’m as confused as you are.

She is mad at Scott, sure, but she is over it in a matter of days. Hell, notice how she was already a fan of the Clash at Demonhead now? There is no scene of Scott introducing her to his kind of music. He didn’t change her. By the end she is a member of his band and they are totally chill:

This is, again, about a week or two later.

Knives is not an important character in this show, way less than in the original, this is no grand sin. But I still find it very interesting: O’Malley is wrong. He “spells it out” way less in this version when it comes to the actual consequences of Scott’s actions. Everyone’s verbal condemnations are substitutes to replace the real damage his actions dealt in the comic. Scott is a better person this time, in a world that has universally agreed he is worse (still not a good move ofc). Even Scott’s moment of apology to Knives about their dating is so tepid its almost Straussian:

Its ‘frowned upon’…which is not the same thing as saying it was wrong! I don’t think this is intentional, its just funny, but its a nice capstone nevertheless.

And it had to be this way, not just for media in general, but for Scott Pilgrim in particular. Not only are sexual crimes far more reified today, but Scott Pilgrim’s sin of dating a high schooler is reified as well - its the first piece of discourse everyone encounters about it. Its the ur-debate of the franchise. The idea of actively engaging on this point, and digging deeper into it…its too hot, too controversial. Way better to shy away from it, disown it. The discourse wrote this part of the script over the course of a decade; its not something the creatives had any say in.

Honestly they should have just gone all the way - just make Knives 19. Then how tepid it is wouldn’t be a distraction anymore. Scott can just be an asshole for cheating on her, that would work fine. If you aren’t going to commit to the reality of these things, you shouldn’t bother with it at all.

#scott pilgrim #essay

[uplatterme]

false god

—sub!dainsleif/dom!amab!reader, priest!reader | reader is called ‘father’, throatfucking, cockstepping, first half is plot and then the other is filth.

—and after posting about writing for dain since january, i actually finally finished one for him!

This isn’t the first time that such a thing had happened to the Bough Keeper.

Such a thing was, accidentally teleporting himself to a place he didn’t mean to, partly due to exhaustion and sleepless nights.

It was often like these that the immortality cast upon him mocked him more than anything. 

Droplets of water started to fall onto his hair, then eventually onto his body. He stares into the dark sky, the coldness of the rain bringing more comfort than it does harm.

Dainsleif sighs, and instead of teleporting away to his right destination, he starts to walk and explore this newfound place.

There isn’t much to say about where he’s landed himself, and frankly, he’s thankful for that. Silence is a gift for him nowadays and even when he’s isolated, it’s rare that he isn’t plagued by awful memories that keep him from just closing his eyes for longer than a few minutes.

His slow steps are halted though, when he sees that he has brought himself in front of a very peculiar building. The rain continues to soak his body as the man stares at the white architecture and the statue that is displayed in front.

He chuckles. Of course, it couldn’t be that easy. His luck had never been the one to land on his side, he didn’t know why he expected otherwise.

It’s quite big for a chapel, especially since he doesn’t recognize the figure in front. Still, it’s one of a god’s, nonetheless. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised considering the lengths that devotees had gone to.

His curiosity gets the best of him when he goes nearer the said building, wanting to examine the sculpture. However, before he could even get a closer look, the wooden entrance opens.

The Khaenri'ahn’s first instinct is to transport himself away but finds that to be useless as he meets the eyes of another. What he didn’t expect next, is genuine worry.

“My goodness! Are you alright?” 

He almost gets confused as to why one would react in such horror. He doesn’t have any blood on him, does he?

Dainsleif looks down, not wanting to traumatize a random stranger…and discovers that there’s nothing wrong with him?

He lifts his head back up, only to find you nowhere near the doors of the chapel. He wonders where you are for a quick second until he feels something warm covering his body.

“I hope my robe will make do…Come on, get inside. You must be cold.” His reluctance is evident in his face but before he can even say anything, he’s pushed inside the chapel, much to his distaste.

Him stepping inside such a place was too much for him already that he forgot the fact that he’s wearing a robe, one that he assumed was no ordinary one.

Dainleif wants to take it off and so he tries to, at least.

“Keep it. I apologize I don’t have any spare clothes at the moment.”

He really does not want to wear a priest’s robe. 

“Did you come here for the mass? I’m afraid it ended an hour ago…Ah, but you can still stay until the rain stops.” You offer generously.

“No. I just happened to be passing by.” He explains.

He watches as your mouth gapes, looking for the words to say after you’ve just brought him in here out of his will.

“That makes sense…I was wondering why I haven’t seen you before. Not that it matters, you can still stay. The Chapel of our God is glad to help any troubled souls.”

He takes offense at that. 

“Troubled, you say? That’s quite a big assumption of a man you’ve just met.” His tone is as monotone as ever, yet that doesn’t hide the disdainful look that lingers in his bright eyes.

You muse.

“Ah yes, a non-troubled person that enjoys looking gloomy and letting the rain pour all over them.”

Dainsleif bites his tongue at that.

“I’ll show you around.”

While it does interest him that this chapel worships a god that isn’t of the seven, that doesn’t mean that he wants to learn more about a dead god who was defeated in the archon war just like the others. Although he presumes that the way you tell of their tales makes it somewhat bearable.

Even if it’s not what he expected.

It’s not as overwhelming as he had thought, but perhaps that was due to the lack of nuns he usually sees when it comes to churches.

“Is there something wrong?” You ask fondly, stopping your rambling about your said god just to listen to him.

“Does this place have many attendees?”

“Not quite…but it’s a lot if you consider they’re followers of a God who isn’t one of the seven.”

Frankly, Dainsleif doesn’t get it. It’s not as if all these masses you lead would ever lead to something else. It’s just wasted hard work, if he’s to be brutally honest.

He can tell that there’s a lot of admiration and work you have put into this, but for what reason? What reason is there to keep spreading the word of someone you haven’t even personally met?

Would your faith waiver if knowledge of your god performing deemed evil acts is brought upon you?

“Should we continue the tour?” You ask.

He politely shakes his head, thoughts still lingering in his head.

“We must adhere to these values that our God has specified in their writings…that our way of living as a mortal is something that should be celebrated and not frowned upon…”

The non-believer sits at the last row of the chapel, somewhat half-heartedly listening to your words as you read passages from a book in your hands.

He only watches, observing the entire view in front of him. How people reply in unison whenever you say a certain phrase, an exchange that he finds to be quite strange. 

The mass isn’t that long, yet you still manage to lead that hour with grace, making sure that every part of it goes well without any fault.

How you stand to the side, leaning on the podium with a smile as everyone sings along with the choir.

Dainsleif’s eyes meet yours and he sees you mouth a greeting to him.

…He supposed that he can stay for a minute when everyone has gone.

He sees you grin as you start walking towards him, your robe neat and tidy as ever.

Surprisingly, he speaks first.

“I’m surprised you still have a recollection of me.”

“It’s only been a few months.” You reply, your voice soft and soothing, unlike the way you spoke as you preached earlier.

Most people would choose to forget. “You’re different in person than you are earlier.”

“Perhaps.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence in the chapel, the mosaic windows dim the bright sunlight from the outside but that only results in the colored glass reflecting stunningly on your face.

He takes the initiative and speaks again.

“Is it because I’m not a follower?”

Your breathing catches on his ear. “Maybe.”

He wonders if you know of his lineage and if that’s the reason why you had kept an eye out for him, suspicions rousing through your brain.

“Father.” The change of tone to formality shocks you a little that you were forced to question why he’s suddenly calling you that.

Your awkward chuckle echoes through the building. “What are you calling me that for?”

“Just seeing if your attitude would change. If you’re truly as honest as you present yourself to be.”

You click your tongue. “Is there a reason you came here?”

There it is. A snarky tone. He knew he was right to come back here. 

Why was he sent here before? Was someone playing tricks on him? The Abyss? The gods? He knows there has to be a reason for him being teleported here that day.

“May I ask how someone becomes a member of your church, Father?”

He hears you sigh deeply. Why?

Aren’t more members what you want and need?

“If that’s how you want to do this then…I’ll amuse you. Follow me, troubled one.”

Dainsleif’s fists close at the nickname.

He’s brought to a room that you once showed him the previous time that he was here. You never explained what exactly this room was for as he left just before you got to.

There’s a small fountain, clear and blue flowing through it.

“This is a small tradition we have. It’s based on one of the writings that…you haven’t read, but that’s alright. It’s not that difficult to follow.” You start to explain.

“It’s a symbol of starting anew, to wash yourself of the regrets you have.” 

“And if I do not have any?” He questions.

“You do. Everyone does, even Gods.”

“You think gods regret the things they’ve done.” His patience is thinning inch by inch. He almost laughs at the ridiculousness of that sentence.

“That I do. According to one of the passages that—”

“How exactly do I know whether what you’re saying is genuine or just out of a damn book?” He interrupts.

You stare at him with a disapproving look. “You’re deflecting.”

“Excuse me?” 

“What is it that troubles you?”

Nothing. He’s fine. He’s done with everything, there’s no use in pondering over what could’ve and should’ve been.

“Don’t act as if you’re superior to me.” He says, visibly upset.

“So much for becoming a believer.” 

That’s when the grin is swayed off your face in just a few seconds as Dainsleif pins you to the wall, your head slightly tilted up as he grips tightly on your collar.

“Who sent you?” His enchanting eyes cross yours, not even a shade of fear in them.

“What exactly have you gone through that you think everything is out to get you?”

He stills at that. You’re not trying to push him off.

Instead, you’re conversing with him like he’s a lost lamb who’s unsure of where to go. An amenable priest who listens and asks.

He lets go. Your robe is now crinkled, and the mark of his fist is clearly evident.

You sit on the bench near the fountain, patting the empty space right next to it. Dainsleif refuses the offer, choosing to continue standing while he searches for the next words he’d like to say.

You smile.

“You don’t have to apologize or continue this. It doesn’t mean anything anyways if you don’t take it to heart.”

It’s such a strange sentence to hear from someone like you. You’re not..forcing him nor are you trying to sell him your ways by threatening him of what he may face if he doesn’t.

The Khaenri'ahn sighs, the words of apology already at the tip of his tongue.

“I’d prefer it if we were to continue.”

“You would?”

“I can still change my mind.” He jests, seeing you beam from ear to ear.

Dainsleif slowly walks towards the fountain, sitting beside you and laying his head down on your shoulder. The gesture is surprising to the priest but it isn’t turned away.

“I hope you’re quite ready, Father. This might take a while.” He says with his eyes closed.

“Confess your regrets, my troubled one.”

Eventually, it becomes a habit of his to visit you whenever he’s plagued with thoughts that make him anxious and question his choices.

And each time, you’re there to give advice. To lend a shoulder, and sometimes a little more than that.

He will never worship a god, but he’ll sure as hell worship you.

Dainsleif always waits patiently in the last row, watching you and listening to how your voice sounded rather than the message you’re conveying.

It’s soothing, in a way.

He doesn’t say a thing and only waits as you walk down the aisle with a smile.

It’s a silent exchange.

You place your hand on his shoulder and Dainsleif rubs the side of his chin on your hand, his eyes shut. 

“Dainsleif.”

“Yes, Father?” He teases, a smirk forming on his face before opening his eyes.

Your fingers lift his head slightly before bending down to reach his soft lips. He doesn’t pull away, he presses them further as if it’s his salvation. 

It’s somewhat sick that he’s found comfort in someone like you. He contemplates whether he’s walking the path of failure that the gods have planned, if this whole thing will eventually turn over just to punish him even more.

In the end, it’ll all be his fault. He’s the one who revealed secrets that you’ve never asked for.

“You’re making that face again, Dain.” You speak.

“What face?”

“The kind you make when you’re overthinking things. The one I want to get rid of.”

Dainsleif reaches for your hand, asking even if he knows the answer. “Pray tell, how exactly?”

“It makes me wonder if it’s a turn on of yours to get fucked in a place of worship.”

“Like how it’s a turn on for you when I’m on my knees and calling you Father?”

You laugh, caressing his hair as you look down on him.

“You don’t even worship the God of this place.” He looks so sweet like that, his head between your legs. Such beauty ready to kneel for you and do whatever if you ask him kindly.

“What’s the need when I already worship you?” Dainsleif says and takes you in.

Dainsleif never imagined he’d gladly be spending his time inside of a chapel, right in front of empty seats where anyone can walk in through those wooden doors, acting as if the altar is your hips.

And yet he’s letting you use his mouth eagerly, so used to how you taste that sometimes he himself craves for it when you two are separated.

“That’s right, love. Just think of me.” 

He groans as you push further into his throat, his eyes wandering to you despite his breathing getting obstructed.

He loves the things you do. Whether it be hearing you talk so dearly to him, tugging his hair with the right amount of pull, or the way you fill his mouth nicely like this.

It’s yours.

The sound that escapes his throat when your foot presses directly on his crotch is loud and lewd, echoing through the empty chapel.

His cheeks lightly flush, grumbling something incoherent.

“Speak clearly, my lamb.”

He rolls his eyes at the mischievousness of your voice. You know he can’t, and yet you’re still asking him to do so.

He follows still, of course.

“M-Mo—ah!” 

Dainsleif chokes as he tries to speak.

“Too much for you?”

He shakes his head and tries again.

“Mow—Moah-”

It’s not working. He’s stuffed full to even say it.

“Come on,” Your foot steps on his cock again. “There’s another way to plead. I’m sure a smart devotee of mine can figure that out.”

His chest heaves, trying to calm his breathing from the pressure and whining as it stops.

That’s when Dainsleif moves of his own accord, taking you even deeper than you already were. You can feel the vibrations from when he slowly pants, breathing through his nose more so he won’t pass out.

He bats his eyelashes at you, with a face full of sin.

Tears are starting to form in his eyes.

Please.

Dainsleif gags on your cock again, moaning impurely when your foot begins to knead more aggressively on his pants.

Your shoe adds even more stimulation and his cock aches wanting, no, begging for a release.

“Such a sinful body, no wonder the gods haven’t been blessing you.”

Fuck.

He continues to whimper, sucking your cock needily and knowing you’ll stop if he doesn’t do well.

“You get on your knees to be a slut, I wonder if they’ve bruised already.”

They do. They always do when you fuck his throat like this.

His mind is hazy and he’s close, he’s so—

“Hmgh!—”

“Not yet. Be patient.”

His body wants to buck down when you remove the pressure just seconds before he cums, but your hold on his head keeps him from doing that and he’s left to whine painfully.

The tears in his eyes finally fall and he stares up at you to be merciful, to let him have this one since it’s been a month of waiting to finally have you get him off like this.

“You want it?”

He nods and whines, begging for you to hear him out.

“Alright.”

When he gets permission, he sobs out on your cock, cumming inside in his own pants and soiling the floor. You feel how warm his breath is, his body is tired and trembling, but he keeps trying to make you finish as if it’s the only thing he’s made for. Even if he’s barely doing it well, too drunk with his tongue tired already.

The sight of that is enough to get you off.

Dainsleif tries to swallow but he doesn’t do it fully, cum dripping down his chin and coughing on the amount he can’t.

He finds it a waste that he isn’t able to. He stares, wondering if he should clean it up.

“Dain, it’s fine. You did amazing.”

His heart softens.

“Let me help you out, love.”

His head rests on your lap, your fingers playing with his hair. A tradition that you two somehow have ended up doing each time you finish.

He thinks it’s sweet and funny that you act so soft despite the things you say when having sex.

“Tell me.” You say.

“Tell you what?”

“What’s bothering you?” You question.

Dainsleif only snickers at that.

It’s you, Father.

#plattered writings #sub genshin impact #sub genshin #dom reader #dom!reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #dainsleif x reader #sub dainsleif #sub!dainsleif

[serpent-benediction]

[TW: SAGAU Imposter stuff, death, some detailed descriptions of wounds and stuff. Don’t expect anything amazing].

Some would call this development a cliché of sorts, wrapped in the illusion of perfection. You knew better than to allow yourself respite in the face of trickery.

———————————————————

Chains and ropes entangled and dug into your limbs, keeping you stationary under the gaze of thousands of people. A majority of them were unknowns - real somehow, but never essential to your eyes. Blanks with no sense of self before you got here.

Other than the ‘NPC’s’ ; numerous vision holders from across the continents were here to witness this display.

The more prominent members of the Knights of Favonius were present, alongside the Adepti watching from the sidelines. Itto’s Gang were barely spotted from your position,

Roaring cheers echoed from every side, like waves crashing against a sea. Drowning. Even like this, you couldn’t gather the will to make out words as your body was dragged down dirt and concrete, scraping skin against the ground. The pain was numb, though perhaps that could be attributed to the amount of drugs they put into you — or the blood you’ve lost on the way here.

An abrupt stop forces your head upwards to finally observe where they’re taking you - and the sight is not pretty. A statue of gold wearing your face stretches into the sky ; a teasing reminder that this world was made for you.

Venti and Zhongli stayed within the confines of the crowd, keeping their identities hidden whilst the puppet Ei stood ahead, her signature blade at the ready. . . That costed a pretty penny out of your pocket.

“Do you have any words you’d like to say in your final moments, Imposter? Perhaps our Lord will take mercy upon you.” The nobody that was dragging you eventually speaks up. A Millelith member - Yan-something.

Venom seeped throughout every word spoken, only being comparable to the poison-tipped arrows that nearly nicked your skin on numerous occasions. If you were younger, more naive, you’d answer with pleas for your life - begging for forgiveness or some half-assed mercy.

The current you knew why this was happening. It was like a bad joke, akin to all those ‘self-aware’ stories you had the ‘pleasure’ of reading all those years ago.

Years in this hellhole. The memories of your first day here were engrained in your mind and the reason you survived this long. Suspicion was your ally in the first weeks, allowing your continued survival up until now.

Until you got sloppy. Careless. Attached.

An attempt at gaining a friend unfettered by deceit. A slow and gradual process at first, but the results were expected. Betrayal in the middle of the night, after months of back and forth, between moments of care and affection - only to have it ripped away. Perhaps you should have stayed in Snezhnaya. At least the Fatui were direct in what they were doing, and Childe was a good friend before. . . all of this.

You held valid, human emotions, but they treated you like an animal. Your rights were stripped in an instant, and you were forced into a cage - trapped amongst the worst dredges of society for what seemed like an eternity. Food was scarce, water even more, and the punishments. . .

Even if you survived, the scars would never fade. Flesh torn asunder with blades and scalpels, subjected to inhumane torture as they froze, electrocuted and burnt skin away ; red blood adorning the walls in a sickening mockery of your false form. The healing afterwards was just a formality, just so you wouldn’t die in their ‘humble care’.

You held the same face as their beloved idol, the being of all their affections and worship, yet they couldn’t handle the fact that your blood wasn’t a precious golden. Truly ridiculous to have the next best thing, but treat it like a third-rate gift, no?

“You and your… God, can go fuck themselves.” Vulgarity came easily, and sarcasm came next. You had no love for these… false people. They weren’t real. This was all a mere dream, or perhaps a coma, or maybe even the dying remnants of your brain already coming to an end.

Pain enveloped your face in an instant ; blood immediately trickling from the newfound wound. It wasn’t a crushed nose this time around, but it still fucking hurt.

“Don’t ever disrespect The Creator!”

How ridiculous. Aren’t you supposed to be ‘God’ here? Where’s Nahida? Where’s Xiao? Where’s the plot point in where you’re safe and sound with unbearable, psychological trauma?

Where’s your savior?

Was. . . was this really it? Years of your life wasted, struggling to survive in this backwater hellhole? You forced yourself to change just to fit in with the rest of these… people. You didn’t have a vision or some godly set of skills honed by A Player — you were normal.

What a damn joke.

— More of your crimson blood splattered against the ground as you were forced before the Shogun ; her outside face neutral, though you could sense that she was seething on the inside. A useless puppet through and through.

“For your transgressions against The Creator for daring to masquerade as them, I hereby sentence you to death.” — She didn’t even offer you a moment to say a final word. Tsk. Worthless bastard.

“KILL THEM! KILL THEM! KILL THEM! KILL THE IMPOSTER!” The chants roared louder and louder.

. . . But, you weren’t going to grant them the satisfaction of begging. You were scared, deathly so, but maybe release wouldn’t be that bad. . .

“When I get down to the abyss, hell, or whatever it’s called. . . I’ll make sure I give Makoto my thanks for being such a shitty sister.”

A singular movement, and everything shifted.

The sensation of having your head severed from your body ended quickly ; the disconnection of your brain from your spine bringing your story to a close. In the last, fickle moments before inevitability kicked in - only then did you notice the anger and sadness on Ei’s face.

It was. . . beautiful to see her cry.

. . . Perhaps they’d wonder why you died with a smile on your face. Perhaps they’d discover you were their God after your demise, grieving over your body with the fervor that only a cult could do.

Or maybe you were never special. A nobody like the NPC’s who happily spat and kicked you when you were down, insulting you with no end in sight.

Was this real—

——————————

You’re awoken to another cold breeze ; akin to the first time you’ve had the displeasure of arising here.

#genshin impact #genshin impact sagau #genshin impact cult au #genshin sagau #sagau cult au #sagau impostor au #imposter sagau #AmateurLudwigWriting

[cautuscoralcoast]

Believe

Synopsis - you're a demon. You know many things and hold knowledge long forgotten by humanity; yet, you don't understand many things about the heart of man. You don't understand how any infinite being could ever love humans. Even when you decide to take one as a pet and meal, you still can't see how humans could ever be loved.

"Lie to him, and you can make him yours. Please behave and do as you are told: believe in my lies. For are you no monster or demon—you are a genuine human cursed to take the form of a bird."

Word Count: 4.7k

Tw. Manipulation, minor gore, reader dehumanizing people in general, not a romance, technically tetr@philia, idk

Note: this is heavily reader–centric and not a healthy depiction of a relationship. Also, I lied, reader never appears as a human.

You can't understand humans; you couldn't understand your "siblings." Why would they love something as foolish and disgusting as mankind? Whether it be any of the fickle names they use to separate each other or the false gods they worship, humans are truly the most unlovable thing to exist.

They're beings bound by time and their mortal desires; one of the most restrained organisms in this world. You've seen how they devoroured one another and burned the world around them. Lust, hunger, pride, and wrath, you've seen it time and time again. You just couldn't understand why humans felt the need to destroy each other. You couldn't understand the appeal behind the relationships they formed with each other. You couldn't understand why some choose to live and suffer with a desire that can never be satiated rather than die. You couldn't understand why they do so many pointless things; their whole purpose is to live, yet they choose to bother with petty politics. Humans were just foolish little beings. You couldn't understand why your "siblings" like them so much.

"You're just mad at the fact that they abandoned us."

You were being born from the deepest desire of mankind and the impossible broken laws of the universe: a demon. Born from ancient magic and man, you wanted nothing more but to stand by their side. Such wonderful desires and wishes they whispered to you in your slumber. So many dreams and disasters you made a reality just to satiate the desire of mankind. You couldn't understand why they treated you as if you were cause of their suffering; all you did was do as you were told.

"Cover this land with marsh and mud—thy villainous crane shall never fly again."

To restrain the crane, they bound the legs with silver and water. To blind the bird, they carved deep into the land—far from the sun to guide the demon light. To silence the bird, they placed stone walls adorned in a long forgotten spell—an ancient magic that shall never be heard again. To weigh down the wings of the crane, they covered the land with water, mud, grass, and rain—ensuring the bird never flies again."

How could you not be upset? They left y—

You just couldn't understand how they could ever love humans; whether it be to devour their desire or to be them—you just couldn't see it. Even before being imprisoned, you couldn't understand what relationship other than mutual benefit could exist between man and demon. You cure their insatiable desires, and they hand those desires over. They feed you—you grant payment.

"You're still denying that? Out of all of us, you're the one who loved humans the most. You were the one who cried the longest."

You really wish you could forget.

All you do now is stand in this damned dungeon: sitting in the middle of a marsh created from the memories of the other demons. You think and talk the way humans do, but you aren't a human; a finate being locked to time. You take the form of a crane, but you aren't an animal; a creature bound to instinct. You use magic comparable to the illogical, but you aren't a monster; an abomination born from mortal magic. You are an infinite desire born from nothing and everything.

You stand in this artificial wetland and stare up at the false sky. Humans come and enter every single day: humans die every single day. There is no such thing as death in these dungeons; at least, not for humans. It was one of the many things you realized early on. You remember looking through the eyes of a monster, a person brought back from death.

Repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat; how many centuries went by since you saw the surface world? You weaved the memories and desires of those who entered and painted the surroundings to mimic land You've never seen with your own eyes. You stood in the middle of the marsh, watching the reflection of the skies and cities built by man. You couldn't understand how anything could have loved humans. The more you watched them enter your dungeon, the more miserable they appeared to you. Resentfulness turned into pity. Humans were just very foolish.

"You should keep a human! Promise paradise, and you can raise and devour all those desires!"

With each and every person that enters, the more dangerous and grotesque you make the dungeon. You don't want to contract humans ever again; you'd rather die than live with the addiction other demons have. From the memories of the others, you remember the taste of desires; it's always the same flavors of lust, greed, wrath, pride, gluttony, and envy. Even with the humans that enter the dungeon, they all hold the same bland desires. You don't need to eat their desires to know how they taste.

That's why you couldn't help but salivate with hunger when you felt a new group of humans entering your dungeon. The most delicious desires were those unheard of: the most vile, wretched, disgusting, grotesque wants of man. This was the first in your imprisonment that such a human entered the dungeon. You never thought that you yourself would have been tempted by the thing that chained down your "siblings." You never thought that a desire as strong as this could be so alluring that you feel as if you're losing yourself.

"You must have it! You must! Never had a seen one as potent as this!"

"How disgusting and selfish could this human be? To love and lust in all things horrible, this truly has to be a tall-man!"

"I see it! I feel it! Even through your memories, I can feel the longing and hunger!"

"Make the human lord of the dungeon—grant him all his wishes to nurture that complex desire of man."

You can never understand humans; you'll never be able to understand how they can ever love anything in this finate world. You will never understand your fellow demons; you'll never know why they limiy their infinite souls and mind to one of addiction. The only thing that you can truly understand is yourself in the universe and soul. The only thing you need to know now is that you must have this desire. You feel as if you're being torn apart with each and every step this human takes in the dungeon. You want to tear the humans limbs apart and soak the stone and moss in its blood.

Even then, you can't help but be mesmerized by his inner self. With a disgusting and vile desire as his own, how could anyone love him? You saw his fascination with the monsters of this dungeon. You've seen his many attempts to communicate and observe these mindless creatures. His desire.....the worst desire you have ever seen. He was disgusting.

You looked through the eyes of multiple monsters as you watched the humans progress through the dungeon: tall-men, half-foots, elves, dwarves, and so many different flavors of humans in this small little party. They were a capable group—not many make it this far in the dungeon. In fact, they were so capable you couldn't find a single opening to take the human for yourself. This damned prison restricted your power and ability to manipulate the world as you will it. You couldn't just kill him and separate the group from his corpse; that cleric there could revive him in a heartbeat.

What if you kill everyone in the group? No, to do that would scare the human away. The only way to have his desire is to make master of the dungeon—there's no way he would trust you if you killed everyone he cared about. Humans and their bothersome relationships! How selfish and horrible they are! You just can never find it in you to ever love them ever!

"Lie to him."

You watched from afar as the humans trekked through the dungeon: going deeper and deeper. You were the rat who scurried from under their feet: you were the birds and humanoid owls that soared from above. The more you observed the group, the more you questioned their bonds: the two siblings, friends, companions, coworkers. You really couldn't understand the love among themselves.

You watched with the intention to imprison the human male you so desired to consume; you never expected that he would be the first to catch you.

"What are you?"

You were startled when you saw the human behind you. You were watching the group a moment ago—settling in their temporary encampment—and you lost sight of the human. A crane watching from afar, and a human not far behind. You turned your head and stared: now how did he get behind you?

"I thought it was odd that there were a lot of birds all of a sudden—then I saw you! You looked different each time, but you always acted the same way!" The human stepped closer and held up his hands.....was he trying to pick you up?

"Are you a shapeshifter? Does it always have to be a bird? I noticed you used insects and rodents, too! I FORGOT! Can you speak?" He reached out with one of his hands, and the moment his finger made contact with one of your feathers, you got defensive and stepped back.

"Dare not lay a finger on my feathers."

"You can speak!"

"—and fear thy next step! Halt all action near I!"

The human apologized and stepped away from you. He looked rather dejected and depressed when he did so; you were the being harassed by his hands—why is he the sad one? You retract your wings and slowly made your way towards him.

"Why does thou speak as if I am declared as harmless? Why does thee approach my as if I am a bird with no abnormalities? Why is thou so sure I is the trend of birds observing?" You stood in front of him and looked up as the two of you made eye contact.

He looked away sheepishly and spoke, "You were just watching and not doing anything. I thought that if you wanted to hurt us, you would have done so already...and the way you preened your feathers wasn't the same as the other winged monsters; and you always did it the same way!"

Is this the human that held that strong desire? You wanted to scold him for being so careless, but he beat you to it.

"Are you a monster?!"

"Does I appear to be comparable to instinct and the unnatural?"

"Yes."

".....Thou is the biggest fool and joker I have ever had the honor to encounter in this prison! Not a monster! No harpy! No siren! No basilisk! No cockatrice! No dragon! For what reason does thy have to believe so!?" You stomped your claws in frustration. You are nothing like those inferior beings—you're a demon made from the infinite desire of man and possibilities.

"You're a talking bird—" "My is the same as the regular cranes from above!" You flew up and pecked at his head angrily.

He raised his arms in an attempt to shield himself from your assault. "Sorry! Sorry!" He apologized furiously and, without a thought, asked, "Are you a human then!?!?"

From confusion, you settled back on the ground and thought; you were far from human—a demon—but does he need to know that? "Thou does he see through the mist."

"Is that a yes?" He asked as he tried to soothe the pain on his head.

"Thou remains true. A prisoner of the wrath and anger of the village, the crane has been wrongfully accused of sin."

Lie to him.

The human sat on the floor beside you—listening as you spoke.

"No sorrow greater than the death of the village children, my has been cursed to roam the world as a bird. Even it shall be deemed light of damnation, and so locked beneath the earth and into the dungeon was I imprisoned."

Lie to him, and you can make him yours. Please behave and do as you are told: believe in my lies. For are you no monster or demon—you are a genuine human cursed to take the form of a bird.

"In a black fog and sorrow, I roam the dungeon in search of an escape. Not near shall I approach the entrance of man—not far shall I leave the bounds placed on my 'soul.' When day in turned night, there entered a group of travelers; could thou be the answer to my curse? Thou so foolish to follow the bird of trickery; or is I the fool to believe in hope?"

Look at the crane and bask in its elegance. Listen to the crane and fall for its lies. Latch onto the crane and curse it with love.

Will you be the one to save me from this liar curse?

"You should have asked us from the beginning. I'm sure Falin and the others would be more than happy—"

"Thou called me a monster. What is the future that they see I in false light?

"I don't know..."

You wanted to scoff at the idiocy of this man. Were all humans as foolish and ridiculous as him? Were all humans meant to be naive and innocent? Where would that place a demon?

"Fret not and feel not the woes of this lone bird. Look at my and tell of thou name." You stared into his eyes with the appearance of a bird. An odd sight to behold: a crane trying to comfort a saddened man.

"My name is Laios." He looked into your eyes with such a trusting gaze. The fool he was to trust in the bird. "What do I call you?"

What was your name? Crane, demon, monster, fiend, devil: you went by many names. However, you doubt those would be suitable for this fictitious tale.

"My name....My name shall be said as ‐—–—–—‐"

Truly the best name for a liar crane.

You watched as he waved you goodbye and returned to his party. You watched as he did his best to keep his mouth shut—trying not to tell anyone about the talking bird he met. Had you been a human, you would have most certainly laughed at him. But alas, you are no human. Speaking of humans, you thought about the false story you told Laios.

A human wrongfully accused of murdering the children in a village. The villagers, feeling as if the human was to blame, cursed the human to take the shape of a crane and imprison them in the dungeon. That was the story you made up for your appearance as a bird. Now that you had his trust, you had to think of how further ensnare him.

You watched his every step and facial expressions. The more you watched him interact with the others in his group, the more frustrated you got. Then it clicked: a curse, wish, and desire: it suddenly clicked in your head. Make a false remedy to your curse, take the form of a human, and grant him a wish. Once you grant him his first desire, you'll delude him into having to stay here in the dungeon with you. You'll eat and eat away at his soul and get out of this disgusting dungeon.

You followed the group of adventurers through the dungeon. You told Laios where to go: where to break the curse. You helped them avoid the many traps and dangerous monsters. It would do you no good to get rid of them too soon. Besides, Laios had no ounce of distrust in you. Seeing you more as a crane rather than "human," He often failed to keep his distance. Holding you in his arms or prodding at your feathers to see if you were, in his words, "an actual bird."

It was one of the things you knew about Laios: his deep infatuation with monsters. You knew about how deranged he became when the topic of monsters surfaced. It wasn't the same interest as regular humans would have—no—this was a desire. This was the desire that alluded you towards him. This disgusting, horrible desire: and he knew it. It was quite amusing watching him restrain himself when the group talked about monsters: seeing his face scrunch up and bouncing his leg.

When you can't see Laios during the day, you see him at night. Transversing through his dreams, you told him stories about the monsters of the dungeon. With each and every word, your lies were made the truth.

In a meadow constructed through using his memory, you sat in Laios' lap. Gazing up at another false sky, you wondered if this was the place he grew up. It was one of the many things you couldn't help but question; some stayed in place, and others traveled. Some left their homes or never had one because they had no other choice, while others wanted to see the world. Having been centuries since you last eaten, your memory tracing was quite limited.

"Laios? Remembering the forgotten past, seeing through memory, have I forgotten myself?"

"How can you forget how you look?"

Though sometimes it was difficult to have a serious moment with him without attacking him. So, you stared at him for a while, trying to restrain yourself. Humans were just irritable!

"Cursed since the beginning time and magic, my life has been more bird than that of man. How is that I remember a blink in nine lifetimes?"

"You have magic, why couldn't you break the curse yourse—aCk! Sorry! Sorry! Stop pecking me!"

The closer he and his group got to the innermost, the more ansty you grew. Just any minute this supposed curse disappears; just any minute, and you can have him. Just wait a little longer, and you'll see the pleasure spoken about by the other demons. You're practically pushing Laios into your mouth; he was so close yet so far. How much longer do you have to wait?

However, just as you grew more restless, you slipped up. During one of your isolated talks with Laios, you failed to survey the area: a pest, an annoyance, an insect. It was when you saw a glimpse of blond that you realized your mistake. Laios may be naive, but how can you be so sure about the others? What's not to say that they'll see behind your feathers and see the demon you are? Since Laios managed to get this far, why not make a contract now and kill the rest of those humans? Promise him paradise, and he'll be yours forever; before they open his eyes.

A crane, a preying mantis, a bear, a hunter, a monster, a demon: you have eyes all over the dungeon. You can't afford to make another mistake. That sister of his suddenly became aware of every living thing in this dungeon watching her. Falin noticed his brother had become more withdrawn the deeper they ventured into the dungeon. She noticed that he often went out alone, away from prying eyes. She noticed how he would scrunch up his face the same way when he kept a secret. How can she not worry? Following her beloved older brother, she saw the devil disguised in the clothes of a crane, Falin saw the many spirits lingering and clinging onto its false form. The moment Falin became aware of it, it became aware of her.

Falin tried asking Laios about the demon that was the crane—however—it always lingered nearby. It peered into the deepest parts of her soul and took them apart; just what was that thing doing with Laios? With each and every step, they go deeper into the dungeon, the more prevalent feathered monsters become. With each and every step, Falin tried to persuade her brother to turn back now. With each and every step, Falin watched as Laios fell further into this crane's lies.

"Just what do you want with my brother?!" Falin shouted at the bird. She saw the monster crane trying to lure Laios into a secluded part of the dungeon; she asked Toshiro to amuse Laios for a bit as she followed the bird. There, in front of the cleric, stood the villainous crane.

You tilted your head in false confusion as you responded with, "Question thou innocent crane? I bear no ill will to thy brother."

You wanted to eat her here and now: to erase all traces of her existence.

"Then why do I see thousands of souls entangled in your feathers."

You turned away.

"They all call you the wretched devil crane."

You lifted your head to stare at her.

"They call you a monster deserving of being chained down in this dungeon."

What nonsense is this human spouting? you didn't do anything deserving of being imprisoned down here. You just did as you were told, and they locked you in here! How were you supposed to know their mortal limits? How were you supposed to know when not to grant their wishes? Why do they say all those mean things about you? A good bird, a lovely bird, an angel, a blessing, a curse, a monster, a demon, the devil: they were the ones who praised and thanked you for your grace. Why are you now being demonized for their mistakes? You're innocent! Truly, you're innocent! Why does she spout lies about your trial?

You stood over Falin with a form akin to monster; with torn feathers and a deformed body, you breathed heavily. Just what would she know?

"Does the liar crane speak truth? Do I speak the truth? Not a monster, no, god, no crane, no man, no devil, but a demon."

Those were the words you said before lashing out. You kept your temper on hold for long enough. You held back your hateful tendencies and reduced the danger of the dungeon for them. You did everything you could just to have that human male, and this is how they repay you? It was no lie that you could have given him paradise!

Just as you went to devour Falin, you felt something pull you down. Looking toward your legs, you saw thousands of hands holding tight. They had the audacity to restrain you once more? Just how much longer do you have to suffer at the hands of man? Just how weak have you become to be violated by the hands of this finate world? Struggling to pull your legs and wings from the invasive hands. When you managed to free yourself, you stared at the spot Falin was at.

Oh, so she left.

Everything was in shambles: there is no doubt that Falin will tell Laios and the others of what you are. No matter how well you speak through a veil of lies, that fool trusts his sister more than anything. Well, at least you don't have to hold back. Falin, Falin, Falin, Falin, Falin: that girl, you'll find her, and make her regret taking your prey. Make them all regret entering this dungeon.

You are a crane: an infinite being made from the desire of man. A being superior than insects, humans, and gods—and a human dared to hold you down? You played with Laios long enough. You waited long enough, and it still felt as if he was far from you.

You'll take him by force.

Run, run, run little Falin. Try to save your brother from my grasp; just know, no matter where you go, I'll find you. I'm the monster that lurks in dark. I'm the sea monster that lurks in the sea. I'm the birds that fly above your little pretty heads. Wherever there is light and dark in this dungeon, I will find you. Try to run, I'll make sure to feast on everyone you're with.

Little Falin, Little Falin, Little Falin, Laios.....

Come with me, I'll allow your friends to live for tomorrow's tomorrow. I'll make sure you are well taken care of. I'll make sure you live in bliss and happiness. Love and worship me, I'll give you paradise.

In an artificial wetland with a false sky, there stood a lone crane. So lonely from the cruel judgment of humanity. Beside the bird, there stood an adventurer adorned in silver armor. The water below the crane's feet reflected the sky like the perfect mirror.

Through the false water, you heard Falin yelling for her brother. In the deepest part of the dungeon, you willingly allowed Falin and the others to leave. There was no need to them—no need for your anger: All was fine. So why won't they leave? Why does she keep shouting at you to give Laios back? He came to you willingly—you didn't force him.

You don't understand humans at all; confused by love, sadness, and compassion, you don't think you'll ever truly understand them. You'll never understand why they left you in this dungeon or why they act as if they can defeat you.

You slowly morphed into something far too monstrous to be a crane: a good bird, a good crane.

"The liar skies warn thee of threatening waves. As the days go by, the sun rises and sets, forget not thy faith in the false bird."

There, in front of Laios, stood something terrible. An amalgamation of birds crudly sown together, held by only the melted blood of dungeon. Not bound by the size of the dungeon: not bound by the finate world. Not a crane, not a human: you were something far worse.

you truly are the devil.

"The fool be the damned: the liar be the victor. With trial so fair and just, deny not thou crime of naivety."

Looking into his eyes, you recalled the words of the lion: "You're just mad that they abandoned us."

Perhaps that was the truth. There was a time in your existence when all you wanted to do was stand next to mankind and watch as they prospered. You once loved humans more than any other thing in existence.

"Ask and ponder if I was the guilty as the moral said claimed me to be. Search and find if I am to blame for hunger and survival. Ask thou excutioner for if all man shall be created equal."

Just look at the demon, and you'll see paradise.

As you watched from your many crude eyes, you wondered if this was the same love you once held for humanity. At the thought of that, you let out a horrific sound; as if crying, screaming, and laughing all at once, it was deafening.

This isn't love; out of every fragment, you were the closest thing to the devil from that false faith. No matter how anything frames it or tries to tell you, you will never understand what love is. Even if you were to understand what love is, you'll never be able to understand how anything could ever love. Just what about this finate world could ever be loved?

One thing is for certain, you truly loathe humans. You knew that the moment you reached out with a bloodied appendage and held onto Laios' hair. Laios was yours and yours alone; those other demons may see and "remember" the taste of the human's desire, but they would never have him. You held onto his arms, legs, and neck: you didn't want to let go. After all, Laios was yours and not anyone else's.

Laios didn't shy away at your touch; closing his eyes, laios leaned into your hand and wrapped his arms around you. As long as Falin and the others were safe from your malice, he didn't mind staying here with you.

There once was a demon who hated all of mankind. It wanted to see people slaughtered like lambs: listen to screams of crying children and infants: to see their villages and homes burn: it wanted peril.

Then, one day, it met a naive adventurer. Appearing like a crane, it loomed over the adventurer.

"Oh, enchanting child of man, how wonderful your desire appears. Would you allow me to have a bite? Do so, I'll give you paradise. "

The adventurer, amazed by the demons form, fell for its lies. Unknowingly sealing the fate of the world's damnation, he held out his hand to the crane. Stroking the bird's feathers, the adventurer spoke ever so softly.

"As so long, we remain together."

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon x reader #dunmeshi #laios x reader #laios touden #delicious in dungeon #laios touden x reader

[mvybanks]

false god

summary: it doesn’t matter how many times you find yourselves against each other, you and jj know how to worship this love. (based on false god by taylor swift)

a/n: the way it took me so long to write this that i thought it was at least 5k words…but i’m slowly coming back so i hope you guys enjoy this!! (i’ve been pathologically obsessed with this song lately so let’s all thank taylor swift for giving me the inspo to write again)

warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+, jj and reader have some heated fights, smut, p in v (it’s not really that much descriptive tho), oral sex (f receiving)

word count: 2.8k

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We were crazy to think

Crazy to think that this could work

Remember how I said I'd die for you?

We were stupid to jump

In the ocean separating us

Remember how I'd fly to you?

Had your lifelong friendship with your best friend come to this? An endless screaming match with your favorite person in the whole wide world? That was what your life had turned into in the last couple of months after your year-long, fairytale-like relationship with JJ.

Your thoughts ran wild as you stared at your boyfriend who could barely turn around to look at you. You had always been everything he ever wanted to lay his eyes upon, but this time, he preferred the view beyond the window of your living room, not giving you the satisfaction of making him crumble under your gaze.

He had always, well before you got together, treated you as if you were the only star in every constellation; you were his sun and no one could’ve ever compared. It hurt to acknowledge the fact that he was avoiding you on purpose, which was why you knew you had to say something. After all, the previous fight you’d had happened for his own good. JJ was turning into a workaholic and you were aware of the reason behind this new version of him: he firmly believed that you deserved to get the most expensive gifts one could find.

He didn’t come from good money, that much you knew, but you had never expected, nor needed, the overpriced jewelry or the fancy dates from him. He was working himself to the bone and it was tearing you apart, especially because you barely got to see each other, which made his efforts the more futile.

“J, please. We can’t keep this up,” you all but begged as you waited for an answer.

“My only goal is to be able to give you everything you want,” he almost hissed, breaking your heart, “How is that a bad thing?”

You sighed, “How hard is it to understand that this isn’t what I want? I want my JJ, not whoever you’re trying to be right now!”

He turned around and got up from his seated position, and as his eyes fell on your figure, it felt like he wasn’t seeing you at all. He ran his hands through his hair in exasperation, shaking his head as he couldn’t believe to his ears. “And how can you even think that I haven’t been myself? I’m trying to give you everything but you’re not listening! It’s like I’m talking to a wall.”

“I am listening! But you can’t expect me to watch you work yourself thin to give me things I don’t even need. You’re all I need, that’s it!”

Finally, his eyes studied your face, your quivering bottom lip, the tear-filled eyes, trying to get your side of the story, your frustration, which gave him the final push to take that jump in the ocean and walk to you.

He couldn’t see you like that; it had been close to a week since this fight had been going on and his guilty conscience couldn’t accept the realization that your sadness had been caused by him.

You furrowed your eyebrows at the silent movement, until he stood in front of you, towering over your smaller figure before his hands fell on your arms, gently grabbing you. His thumbs rubbed over the exposed skin of your forearms, then he slowly let his forehead fall against yours and he took a deep breath, calming you both down.

“I’m tired of fighting,” he sighed, “This isn’t us. Let’s just work this out together, okay?”

You closed your eyes in exhaustion, unintentionally letting a tear escape and run down your cheek, which he was quick to catch with his thumb as he cupped your jaw in his palm. “Okay,” you whispered.

“I love you,” he said as he tried to understand the look in your eyes, “I don’t want these stupid fights to get in between us, baby. I can’t let that happen.”

Nodding a couple of times, you finally wrapped your arms around his torso and buried your head in his chest, searching for that comfort that he had always been able to give you.

“I just want to make you happy,” he mumbled with his lips pressed against the side of your head.

“I’m happy when I’m with you, J. I don’t care about the gifts; I miss you.”

He grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger to raise your head and make you look up at him. Bending his neck down, he brushed his lips against yours before whispering, “I miss you, too, baby.” Finally, he kissed you, mending your broken heart with one simple action.

They all warned us about times like this

They say the road gets hard and you get lost when you're led by blind faith

Blind faith

But we might just get away with it

Religion's in your lips

Even if it's a false god

JJ’s lips seemed to never leave yours as he walked you to your shared bedroom. He was under a spell, making it for him impossible to let you go as he held you in his arms. He was a soldier coming back home and no one was going to take him away from you, his home. Laying you down on your bed, he hovered over you and began leaving wet kisses down your body while his hands worked to get your clothes off of you.

When he raised his head once again to rest his forehead on yours, you placed your hands on his cheeks, breathing each other in as you stared into his eyes. “You know what people told me when we got together?” You asked as he brushed his nose against yours, enjoying the skin to skin contact.

“What?”

“That it was going to be harder because we’re best friends and we already know everything about each other,” you brushed some hair out of his face, “You wanna know what I told them?”

He hummed in response, a sweet smile taking over his features as he did so. “That that’s the reason why I fell in love with you in the first place. I would never change us for anything in the world.”

Your boyfriend didn’t waste any more time before he claimed your mouth, almost taking you by surprise from the force of it. He put all of his feelings into one kiss, showing you his appreciation for your words and your love, because at the end of the day, that was everything you needed from each other.

“I love you so much,” he tried to mumble between kisses, repeating the words like a broken record that you never want to fix.

And what was there to fix? Your love was enough to patch every wound.

I know heaven's a thing

I go there when you touch me

Honey hell is when I fight with you

But we can patch it up good

Make confessions and we're begging for forgiveness

Although you were going through trying times, his touch would always ignite in you that same fire as the first time, the feeling of his hands on your naked skin caused goosebumps to come alive and your heart to race against his pulse.

His weight was on top of you as his hips worked to get deeper inside you at a breathtakingly slow pace.

“Fuck, J,” you moaned out, the perfect music to your boyfriend’s ears as he rested his head in the crook of your neck. Your nails dragged down his bare back, eliciting groans of pleasure from him which egged you on even more.

He raised his head to look down at you, admiring your parted lips as his movements never ceased. Bending down his neck, he claimed your mouth with hunger, basking in the way you let out pleasured sounds against his lips. He held your body close to his, almost molding his with yours, which allowed him to feel every heartbeat and deep breath. He was close to shuddering when you let go of his lips to throw your head behind you and arch your back the moment he hit an even deeper spot inside you, and God, what he wouldn’t have done to have you like that all day long. Just you and him, like you both knew it was always supposed to be.

‘I love you’s were whispered into the night air while JJ’s lips traveled down your neck, kissing your skin repeatedly. When his mouth got to your ear, he gently bit down on your lobe; “I love you so fucking much, baby,” he groaned, and in that moment you knew that you had just gone to heaven with him.

That was your relationship with JJ: ups and downs, hell and heaven, feeling like you’re at the top until something pushes you down and you hit the ground. And yet, you were okay with it, because he would’ve never let you fall without him; you were in it together.

“I’m sorry for not being there for you,” he softly said as you lied in his arms, naked and covered in love marks: his favorite sight.

You nuzzled your head against his chest and attempted at getting closer to him, if it were even possible. “I know you thought it was making me happy,” you gently pressed your lips on his chest, silently telling him how much you appreciated the gesture, “but being with you is way better than expensive jewelry.”

Running his fingers through your hair, “So am I forgiven?” he questioned before his hand fell down on your back to caress your skin.

“Of course, baby,” you smiled. “I love you.”

And you can't talk to me when I'm like this

Daring you to leave me just so I can try and scare you

You're the West Village

You still do it for me, babe

“If you’re so tired of this, why don’t you just fucking leave me then, huh? Break up with me and make yourself a favor.” you shouted as you attempted to physically push JJ away with your hands.

Grabbing them in his in order to make you stop, he almost seemed angry as he tried to get closer to you, keeping your palms firm against his chest. “Look at me,” he said sternly and you obliged, staring in the storm that were his eyes, “Do you really think that I want to break up with you? That I could ever want to live without you in my life?”

“You’re not happy-“

“Hey,” he interrupted you immediately, “Who told you I’m not?” He took a deep breath, “Listen, I know we’re going through a rough patch right now, but we’ll get through it, alright? Don’t push me away, I know that we can make it if we just try. But I need to know what’s going on with you; talk to me.”

He leaned down to softly press his lips to your forehead before you decided to speak up. “I’m scared, J.”

“Of what? Let me understand.”

“What if we’re wrong about this? What if we don’t make it? I’m scared of losing you,” you admitted.

Furrowing his eyebrows, JJ looked down at you, concerned about your confession. “I want you to remember that I’ll always believe in us. You can try pushing me away, yelling at me, whatever you think might make me run away, it won’t work. I know we’re supposed to end up together and nothing will ever change my mind.”

You shook your head, unable to believe to a single word he said, “What happens when you realize that you deserve better? I’m a mess. My insecurities will always get in the way and you’ll get tired of it someday.”

JJ froze at your words; how could you have believed something so untrue? If there was one thing that he was absolutely sure about, the only thing that he would bet everything on, was his undying love for you. It broke his heart to know that you could ever even consider the idea of his feelings being washed away after he spent a lifetime worshipping his love for you.

He brought your hands to his lips, silently kissing each knuckle as you gazed up at him with confusion and gratitude written all over your features. Keeping one of your hands on his cheek, and pressing his lips on the heel of your palm, he guided the other one back to his chest, more precisely, on the left side of it.

“Can you feel my heart beating?” he finally asked, whispering his words as a meaningful look casted upon his face. You could only nod as you stared into his eyes and acknowledged the weight that the conversation had gained. “Good,” he continued, “because as long as it keeps doing that, I won’t stop loving you.”

You didn’t even notice how your lips parted at his confession, you were too busy pondering on what he had just said. “J…” you tried to softly call out his name, although your words had died in your throat and you were unable to let out any other sound.

“Trust me; that’s all I’m asking. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. I don’t care if you think you’re a mess; you’re mine, and I won’t let you go.”

With tears welling up in your eyes, you found the courage to speak again, “JJ Maybank, if you don’t kiss me right now, I swear to-“ but your sentence was cut short by the feeling of his lips pressed against yours.

Your hand fell on the nape of his neck, keeping him as close to you as possible, while his hands traveled down to your behind to lightly squeeze it before he grabbed your upper thighs to signal you to jump. Your legs wrapped around his hips as he took a couple of steps to place you on the first surface he could find, which was the kitchen counter.

As you moaned in his mouth, he caressed your exposed legs, then his palms traveled up to your waist until he slipped his hands underneath your shirt. He needed to feel you, to have you under him, to always remember what it felt like to have you, because he couldn’t bear the thought of you not being by his side forever.

“Don’t you dare try to make me leave you ever again,” he rasped against your lips as he attempted at regaining his breath, “I love you so much, it hurts.”

Rubbing your thumb against his cheek, you gazed up at him as your foreheads touched. You had never seen such a raw and pure look in anyone’s eyes before, except in his; that was his look for you and in the lifetime you had known each other, it had never changed. “I won’t. I love you, too, J,” you gently pecked his lips, “so much.”

We might just get away with it

The altar is my hips

Even if it's a false god

We'd still worship this love

JJ’s lips kissed down your exposed body, worshipping you and showing you that gentle loving which only he knew how to do it right.

The sound of your heavy breathing filled the room and urged him to keep going, as his lips touched your pelvis while he made eye contact with you. You looked down at him and only nodded while biting your bottom lip in anticipation, your knuckles turning white as you gripped the edge of the counter beneath you.

His hands caressed up to your chest, his thumbs lightly brushed over your nipples, causing you to stifle a whine for your whole body was aching for him; for more. Finally, his palms ran down your waist until they touched your thighs and then your knees, wrapping his fingers around them before he placed your legs on his shoulders.

“Gonna remind you that you’ll always be mine,” he murmured, almost as if he didn’t care if you had heard him or not; that primal instinct had already taken over his inhibitions.

Finally, he licked a long stripe along your wet folds, at which he moaned against your sensitive skin, causing you to mewl on top of him. His tongue knew every spot that made you cry and whimper from the pleasure, at which speed to move to make your eyes roll back and your lips to let out whispers of JJ’s names. He knew exactly where to touch you, kiss you, bite you, in order to make your head spin and let you release on his face as many times as you wanted.

Perhaps the next day could be the battlefield of another fight, causing heavy hearts and eyes full of tears yet again, but you both knew that it would end in each other’s arms, and that was all that mattered.

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[oneatlatime]

Sokka's Master

pleasebegoodpleasebegoodpleasebegoodpleasebegoodpleasebegood

Strange choice of master but we'll see where this goes.

The meteor shower animation is quite meditative. I wouldn't mind it as a screensaver.

How to describe something exceptional to your blind friend: "You've never not seen anything like this." It's amazing the quality put into even the tiniest of throwaway jokes.

Are meteor strikes flammable?

I love how whenever Sokka's disappointed he gets noodle arms. A surprisingly consistent characterisation.

Momo butt skate.

Iroh. The fuck?

ok. So he's playing a part for the guards. Why?

Pretty.

Funny to think about, but as a former WWE character, Toph's probably had more hero worship than the Avatar.

Lots to say about this! First, I stand corrected! i honestly thought that Sokka would be immune to this specific insecurity by virtue of him not being a bender. I was wrong! Second, I love how, as soon as Sokka expresses that he feels that he isn't as talented as the rest of them, the others respond by listing his actual, invaluable talents, without which the group would be completely at sea. They don't respond with "no you're perfect!" they respond with "no one can read a map like you can" and how he keeps their spirits up with jokes. They're not using false praise. They are using specific facts. I love that an episode that looks like it's going to deal with a character feeling down on themselves establishes from the get go that the character is invaluable, actually. So often, the 'low self esteem stock episode' puts the affirmation of the character's value at the end. Which means the viewer spends the whole episode being convinced that the character in question might actually be useless. Here, we're told from the start that the character is invaluable - the problem is that they do not perceive themselves to be so. Quite on the nose for a show that deals so much with identity.

OMIGOD IT GETS BETTER!!!!!!!!!!

Validating Katara sweeps in and a) validates his feelings, while b) clearly explaining that his self-perception is not in line with how the others see him, which c) doesn't invalidate a) !!!!

Katara has such emotional intelligence when she chooses to use it.

Nuanced intelligent discussion of the complexities of emotions and self-perception in a Sokka episode I am so happy I am blessed the gods are shining on me today I'm sitting here twirling my hair and swinging my feet and doodling hearts on the corner of my journal

SHOPPING!!!!!

btw that's the same face he makes when he says SUKI!!!

"Reinvigorate my battling" this boy. just. this boy.

He lasted a lot longer than I would have with nun chucks.

Aang the Happy Meal toy.

Some say that Halberd is still spinning today.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present: the 45 degree Sokka.

Some Foley artist had the time of their life with this weapons sequence.

Why thank you for that exposition, Mr. Exposition. Now walk away and we'll never see you again.

Toph does NOT move ONCE this whole scene and it's ever so slightly freaking me out.

Toph tells you she learned from Badgermoles and no one wants to discuss this further?!? We're going to gloss over that?

So this episode has a training montage theme.

Sokka goes freestyle on those door knockers.

That's one hell of a castle. Must be dark in there though. Tiny windows.

Which explains the several hundred candles. This show. Set up with one hand; slam dunk with the other.

This guy's reciting Sokka's s1 introduction on Kyoshi Island.

Sokka: Actually. I am a dumb. The Master: Sold.

The face of someone who is definitely picking up what you're putting down.

It's been ages since I watched the episode, but is some of what the Master saying here about swords an echo of what Zuko says to the kid in Zuko Alone when he's decapitating sunflowers?

A Sokka-less Gaang. Depressing and they know it.

The way Katara's voice actor says "oh everyone's a critic" is gold.

Multidisciplinary education vs. kid who's never been within a mile of the box he's being told to think outside of. Fight!

Yikes that was a meaty hit. Does Sokka have a nose left?

They're wearing beehives on their heads.

Was Sokka always this short?

The greens in this episode are such a delight.

The way he says "I'm finished!" Sounds like "Am finished" and you can actually hear the smiley emoji he throws in.

He's good.

What do they FEED him?

Sokka's voice actor had a great time this episode. All the voice actors had a great time actually.

Sokka invents the La Z Boy

Katara inadvertently invents a fandom war by attempting a joke.

They're all so useless and it's wonderful.

That was all only one day? That's a lot of outfit changes for one day.

"You mess things up in a very special way." Compliment? Let's go with compliment.

Sokka is so very Sokka this episode.

A reason to live is coming!

*thundering herds of shippers in the distance*

That's clever. The inciting incident gets smelted. Haven't seen that before.

This whole Iroh gets buff montage has been completely dialogue free on Iroh's part. Crazy levels of inner peace, that he'd doesn't need to snark back at the guard.

Seriously. What are they FEEDING these children. Also how is that door that shiny.

Sokka really has it in for those door knockers.

Apropos of nothing, the clouds in this episode are all so yummy. All these soft slate colours and misty layers.

Meteoric iron is actually a thing, right?

Ok but aren't mold made swords crappy?

HI YUE

I love how they managed to made a crafting montage where the character who does the least work is the one who looks like he's working the hardest.

"I saw a heart as strong as my garden decor"

"No it certainly wasn't your skills. You had none."

Creativity, versatility, intelligence, meat, sarcasm.

You've known him like two days and you can already tell he's more worthy than any man you've ever trained? Sounds like you had poor taste in students.

"No. This is my fight. Alone." Bro you are going to DIE. The first time you held a sword was two days ago. You might need the avatar on this one.

Guard who never shuts up actually kind of has a point here. He's a dick about as usual, but it's entirely possible that the rank and file of the Fire Nation army view Iroh's actions as a betrayal. Does anyone remember in Star Wars movie number 7, or maybe 8, when that Trooper sees Finn after he's switched sides and yells "traitor!" and it's the best part of the movie? Yeah, like that.

This episode throws the concept of linear time out the window. In two days, Iroh gets swole and Sokka masters sword fighting.

Do you think Sokka's realised yet that this is his final exam?

Yummy yummy clouds.

One in a million pocket sand shot.

One in a million stick placement.

So this master is like a sword spirit or something. He can't be human. There's no way he could get the scabbard to fly on perfectly without seeing.

"Try Lee, There's a million Lees. There's a tea shop in Ba Sing Se that has a super cranky waiter called Lee."

This guy's just this side of committing treason and I love it.

I see this Master is a devotee of the 'Hakoda school of shoving outrageously over the top compliments into Sokka's thick skull in the hopes that 1% of them will stick.' I approve.

This last scene has gorgeous hills and skies but you'll have to take my word for it because I've hit the image limit.

Sokka's been inducted into the super secret boy band!!!

He saved space earth for Toph! He's so considerate! He's fuelling the ships!

Let's compromise and call it space dirt instead.

Final Thoughts

This episode every two minutes: Sokka, you are currently flawless and you're about to get better. Me: Yes. Yep. Yeah. Seconded. I concur.

I like it! It's great! It's 24 minutes of the writers and characters fangirling over Sokka! Of course I like it! It made me criminally overuse exclamation marks! What else can I say?

Hands down my favourite episode is Bato of the Water Tribe. For Sokka's story, this episode is Bato of the Water Tribe part 2. Of course I'm going to love it. This episode was lab grown specifically for me.

Now let's see if I can say something about this episode that isn't poorly disguised squealing.

I love how the characters respond to Sokka saying he's not special with an evidence-based refutation rather than blanket reassurance.

I love how shopping cheers up Sokka. I love how Katara knows that shopping will cheer him up. This must be something she's learned since the show started. I don't think there were malls in the South Pole. So Katara was paying attention when Sokka and Momo went through the bag saga.

I love how much the master is baffled yet impressed by Sokka. He seems almost charmed by this breath of fresh air. I think it's hilarious that, when Sokka first approaches him, he's expecting early season 1 Sokka. He'd better send Suki a thank you card.

I also really like "The way of the sword doesn't belong to any one nation." It seems obvious to us, but in a world where there are weaponisable skills that are quite literally inseparable from the nations their wielders inhabit, it's probably something no one in the Gaang has ever heard before.

Obviously the episode is a little rushed - half hour kid's show and all that - but it's still pretty crazy that you can apparently impart a solid basic knowledge of swordplay in two days.

Toph going all tsundere is funny, and makes Aang and Katara unapologetically desperate for Sokka's company twice as funny as it already is. Toph's like "whatever" and the other two spent the day making a welcome home banner.

I love how Sokka's happiness is always so loud and shameless. It makes it contagious.

This episode highlights what Sokka's actual strengths are, by instructing him in what he thinks his strengths are. If that makes sense? Sokka is brain, which he's finally starting to realise by attending brawn lessons.

He's also heart, and I'll die on that hill.

Iroh getting swole was honestly just a thing that happened. No comment really, except it was interesting to have a reminder from the guard that a character we perceive as the good guy is currently perceived as the bad guy by everyone but us. When the Fire Nation does inevitably get defeated, a whole nation is going to have to reset their worldview and that will not be an easy process.

More like this please!

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #sokka's master

[ladysirenity23]

Cult!Genshin x reader

Sagau pt.1 Khaenri'ah

Warnings: cult behavior, obsessive thoughts, religion, spoilers,

Lumine

One of your very first followers. though the land of Khaenri'ah need not praise any God for they are the ones who nourished the land without such divine, however to her you were different

The Creator, you were the one who placed Lumine in Teyvat to lead Khaenri'ah, she was supposed to stay forever in this world

No, She wasn't mad that you never had shown your divine presence during the Cataclysm, in fact she thinks it was all supposed to happen eventually!now.. she has a reason to take down Celestia and bring you to their side

Til then, her faith in you will not waver, even in her most darkest moments in the abyss she will be awaiting for your presence to shine bright as the false sun of Enkanomiya

Albedo

He was the one tasked to create you a separate vessel(on when you ever decide to roam Teyvat with all by your lonesome)

Though at first, he never did grasp the reason why beings on the lands all over the globe of Teyvat seemed to worship you endlessly

Rhinedottir-his master always would continuously teach him what you were to Teyvat.But she would always end up gushing and forgetting what she was supposed to be teaching him

Questions will be left unanswered and as expected, would make Albedo more curious.He would ask everyone again and again til he would get the perfect answer

Yet no perfect answer was heard, he'd sigh and instead stay here with his master leaving the questions behind his mind for a while as he found himself with some sort of a fondness by the slight feeling of your presence peering over the clouds

He found art that was supposed to depict on what your appearance would be like, he found them amusing tho he himself also can't help but imagine how divinely you would look and feel.Even so, those statues, paintings, and stories don't do you any justice compared to what you have given to the world of Teyvat

With that he needed to show his devotion by making this now sacred vessel, perfect

more so than him--no than any Celestial being the Archons might have made

He shouldn't compare such things below you,and when the time comes

Albedo prays quietly that a deity such as yourself would grace this vessel that he made by possessing it as your own

Kaeya

He heard of you through his time spent in Khaenri'ah, and now in his time he was in Mondstadt

He believes in you, but is more than a tad bit sour that you never appeared and stopped the fall of his former homeland--his faith in you stopped for a while, but he remembered something!He would have never met Diluc and the others if it never happened

Kaeya was now at least less spiteful towards you after the thoughts of the positive things that happened to him after all it was meant to happen and to add to that!

you were literally the only subject that he could discuss with Diluc without either of them starting some sort of fight so with that, he should feel thankful to be at last being able to talk with his adoptive brother in the first time in years

when he felt a familiar divinely presence inside the traveler he felt envious that he wasn't your first choice of a vessel

But the feeling of jealousy soon dispersed when you finally used him to fight everything that you desired to kill

Now however you were having a walk with him, no bloodshed you just lead him to a peaceful morning over the cliff overlooking Mondstadt at its whole

He would have laughed,assuming you always have killing the first thing that comes into your mind every time you decide to use any of your acolytes early in the morning

But he was proved wrong, for this morning.. you were simply walking with him, not a single drop of blood was shed by in his hands, for you just lead him to a peaceful morning breeze on top of a cliff, overlooking Mondstadt at its whole

The city of freedom never looked this beautiful before, and now he selfishly wishes that instead of you being inside him--He wanted you and him,witnessing the region's sight hand-in-hand

Wouldn't it be a more beautiful experience if you were actually present in his side

Aether

When Aether first entered into Teyvat.He wasn't aware there would be a being that was far more greater than Celestia themselves, til his body had been moving by its own

He thought he was going crazy, but Paimon also seemed to have felt your presence since she also talks to you as if you were a separate entity when inside his or another person's body.So he calmed down happy to know he wasn't going insane.

It was uncomfortable at first, but soon found it reassuring after knowing that you were leading him towards his sister to whom he'd lost

the times where you left his body made him a a bit relaxed for a while, but missed you once it took too long for you to come back

After finding out you had a body specifically made for you from Albedo , he felt a bit sad

but at the same time happy that he'd get to finally experience things with you as another being that could finally respond  to his short stupid ramblings and comfort him with the warmth of your own arms

Dainsleif

The man who always kept to himself not bothering with anyone unless it's to track information about the infamous abyss order

But he was also the man who protected your perfect vessel safe from the cruel beings out there(he won't admit it, but he holds so much pride on the job given to him)

Even though he held some sort of past grudge towards you, he soon found out that it would solve nothing

So instead to just making you an exception, he silently fell in love with the thought of you showing him first hand what divinities you held

And once his mission is done, he would also like it to be able to finally achieve peace and enjoy the rest of his life with you

But.. he doesn't deserve to be even near your presence Dainslief would say to himself shaking his head of the any of the remaining selfish daydreams

But he can't help but wonder, you know?Not when he finally feels your presence for the first time in forever through the traveler

He was reluctant at first to give your physical body to the traveler, but he did as told when he thought of the things he could do with you

With the thoughts plaguing his mind he instantly gave it, Dainslief's eyes could be seen flashing at you with happiness once he could see the slight twitch of your fingers before waking up

Like the first time a singular perfect Inteyvat bloomed, you finally woke up

---

"'New quest!' Enter the creator's physical body as Dainslief instructed you to!"

You didn't really hadn't thought of anything when looking at the sudden popup ,you shrug thinking it was just an extra part of the Archon quest.

After pressing the 'interact' button you felt as if  your world was suddenly spinning,

you collapse towards the floor as your phone dropping could be the last thing you heard afterwards

You awake feeling nauseated before your eyes widen open at the sight of the characters of a game you were playing just a moment ago the ivory haired male gave you his hands for you to grab on, his turquoise eyes softening at the hesitation in your own orbs that reflected his

You didn't know if it was shock or fear that immobilised your body, but all you knew at this very moment is that..

"At last.. you have finally arrived oh who is most divine!" almost instantly Dainslief loudly praised at you, while securely grabbing you by your forearm

You weren't in the comfort of your home anymore

Pierro

Even from the cold winter mornings of Snezhnaya,news of the ' o!almighty Creator descending our world'started to spread all over Teyvat like wildfire

Pierro couldn't feel more than delighted to hear the news of your arrival with your own vessel

he knew very well he didn't make your physical body--it was still a product from his fallen homeland

So with pride he held on to his Khaenri'ahan heritage, the only thing he could silently show off to the youngest of the harbingers

Though the Cataclysm gave him a bit of a strain in his faith in you, he came to a conclusion that sacrifices were made and you were here now in the present roaming around the world of Teyvat

Now he just has to await his turn on being a candidate to be your acolyte and when that happens he wouldn't mind killing off anyone that came in front of your way or (if ever) sacrifice himself for your own divinely goals

Small edit:26/September/11:33 am

Small edit:27/September/10:58 am

#sagau #genshin x reader #sagau x reader #god reader #pierro #fatui x reader #kaeyagenshinimpact #kaeya x reader #khaenri'ah #Khaenri'ah x reader #dainslief #dainsleif x reader #aether #Aether x Reader #Albedo #albedo #albedo x reader #Twins x Reader #Lumine #lumine #lumine x reader

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Hear. Me. Out.

Lord of calamity pls. "You belong to me now" prompt with reader who's also part of the COA squad (the survivors) pls?

Hear what? Im in his dms. Im licking his tentacles. Im fucking the outer hp lovecraftian god, anon. Im built different lolol hastur is my wife and i love him to pieces

Rated T | Warning: Lovecraftian themed

Perhaps it is too much to ask of humanity to not embrace the false bliss from the creature who is killing the world, but can you blame them? The pain, the loss, it chips at the soul until there are only shards at the feet of this… Thing. The whispers call it Lord Of Calamity, you find it strange it has a name. If Luchino was… If the professor was here, he would hypothesize this creature has been here before. That is the only reason it has such a grim name.

You fear the others are lost to you. Frederick may not be a pod like the others but he talks nonsense as he seems to offer the thing worship— Praise!

You only escaped the pod because… You are not sure actually. One moment you were in paradise, everything you could ever want but you… You saw through the lies. The deceit and it made you angry.

Humans, like animals, can react violently when there is no way to escape. A fight or flight response but you could only fight. In that paradise you killed someone, then another person, more and more until you woke up screaming and crawling at the pod.

Maskless, your clothing is slimy, and parts of it appear to have been started to be eaten at. You stand by Frederick up at the creature.

It is like looking into the abyss.

And soon the abyss looks back at you.

“Fascinating,” You turn around to see the creature now standing not far from you, it made a version of itself to speak directly with you. “Not many of your kind can escape serenity. This one is curious, was it not to your liking?” Polite.

“My liking?” You stand defensive with one foot in front of you and hands making fists, “That was not real!”

“It is as real as you wish it to be. A paradise of your own making. Were you not satisfied?”

“Paradise is not created from a lie.”

“This one has seen humanity prove otherwise.”

What are you supposed to say? Are you supposed to defend humanity with a battle of words? Which you try to do with everything you have but this creature counters every one of your statements. At one point you fear you might believe that humanity has become a blight upon this earth— No! You shake your head and then look around you, you refuse to let that numb feeling of hopelessness get to you.

“You wish this one harm.”

“I wish to leave.” Looking back at the creature. You move slightly to the side and a tendril from the ground wraps itself around your ankle locking you in place. A tug or two and you glare at the creature.

“This one tries to grant you a painless death. Suffering gives this one no pleasure. A mercy humanity is ill-deserving of.”

You look away then look up at it as it slips close to you suddenly, “Lord of Calamity, have you done this before?”

It is quiet, its hand reaching out to touch your face even though you try moving your head away, “At the pinnacle of your species, this one will consume all. A few will live, chosen by natural selection. The one called Frederick shall be my voice. The one called Luchino will be my enforcer.” The creature is laying out its plans. “The others have no use to me. They may enjoy bliss until they perish.”

“You bastard.” Grimacing at the way the fungal tendril maps out your face. A smooth slime trail and you struggle as more tendrils appear from under you grabbing you.

“This one has not seen your type in many of its lives. Few are granted omniscience, your kind is showing growth between each annihilation and rebirth.”

“What are you talking about?! Let me go!” Fighting your damndest to get out of its hold.

“A birth of a God. A fledgling one but a God nonetheless. You shall create a new world.” So matter of fact, “You belong to this one, fledgling. Once you have matured, you will provide companionship to this one.”

You feel yourself being pulled down like before back into a pod, you scream at it.

“Rest. Dream. Envision the world you will create.”

#anon ask #idv #reader insert #identity v x reader #idv x reader #identity v #idv x you #idv feaster #idv hastur #identity v x you #identity v hastur #identity v feaster #hastur x reader #hastur x you #feaster x reader #feaster x you

[coquettebratzdoll]

THE MYTH OF THE SUBCONSCIOUS

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

After being in the manifestation and shifting community for many years now (mainly on YouTube and tumblr), I realised that there isn't much questioning. There are some concepts that are unanimously accepted as fact (regardless of whether it's true or not). Now that led me to a realisation, the myth of the subconscious mind.

The subconscious mind is described as the part of your mind that notices and remembers information when you are not actively trying to do so and influences your behaviour even though you do not realize it. It is one of the fundamentals, the backbone of the beliefs in these communities. Many of our decisions and methods are built off of the fundamental belief of the existence of the subconscious. There are people who believe that it is the subconscious that makes you manifest/shift, more power to you if this applies to you. I am here to provide an alternative view and challenge this notion.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

Before I go any further, let me explain how I came to this conclusion. So I have been feeling major dissonance - I know that my assumptions create my reality, but I still assume that it can't possibly be that easy (it is). It leads me to constantly be fighting with myself in my own mind, whereas I AM just accepts the things I say unconditionally. It leads to me manifesting things so quickly and successfully but only 'small' things, which reaffirms my beliefs, creating a negative feedback loop. My thoughts are a symptom of an issue that I desire to address.

So I am not interested in having this 💀 so I was thinking how I can address this dissonance. That's when it hit me. My subconscious isn't real. When I tell yall that I was stood shook like 🧍‍♀️. It was my own epiphany moment. Like HELLO !?!? I did that 💅💅

Also, quick disclaimer: these are just my thoughts and exploration of fundamental ideas in this community. You are still entitled to your own opinion. Just have an open mind while reading the rest of the post ♡♡♡

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“I AM is a feeling of permanent awareness. The very center of consciousness is the feeling of I AM. I may forget who I am, where I am, what I am, but I cannot forget that I am. The awareness of remains, regardless of the degree of forgetfulness of who, where, and what I am.

-NG

Neville Goddard teaches that we are nothing but I AM. It is our truest form of self, of being. We are not our bodies, minds, thoughts, feelings, brains, etc. So why are we giving up our power and ourselves to the subconscious mind ? So much of what we do is built off of the assumption that it is the subconscious mind that allows it to come into fruition. That's not the case !! It is only the case if you assume it to be. Neville Goddard teaches us about our assumptions; "An assumption, though false, if persisted in, will harden into fact." Despite knowing this, many still choose to put the power into the hands of their subconscious.

By sacrificing our power to the subconscious mind, we are imitating control. We are the operant power, living a human experience - imitating struggle. By choosing to be aware of your I AMness, you are choosing to let go of the struggle and accept your power. So why would you give up a portion of that power to an imaginal being ? One you created yourself. You are essentially imitating an earthly struggle to imitating a godly struggle - at the end of the day, it's all imitation.

"Let us put and end to these fears and the worship of creation. There is only ONE Lord and that is your own I AMness. When I say and feel "I AM" that is the Lord. I don't feel after anything else. If I need security, I do not try to gather all the money in the world or put my house on some mountain away from everyone. I do not try to do good deeds hoping a god will give my security. No. I go to the ONE Lord, the ONE God and I feel after safety using the name of I AM. I feel after it instead of trying to find it in the world. I feel after I AM secure."

-EA

Edward Art is clearly saying what we all should apply. Do not go to the subconscious. It is just an unnecessary middleman between I AM and the ego. It serves no other purpose aside from what you assign to it. By relying on the subconscious to do what you can do without it, you are worshipping your own creation. Putting it on a pedestal, which it doesn't belong on.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

Barbados is imaginary.

In his work (Series 2, part 3), Edward Art reveals to us that Barbados is imaginary. Neville was at the imaginary Barbados with his imaginary self. He makes an important distinction by this, however. Imaginary isn't unreal, rather something that is unseen; "I am not saying 'imaginary' to suggest 'not real.' I am not trying to play pretend with you. By imaginary, I just mean unseen, substance, a realm. I do not mean unreal. So I interact within this realm just as I would in this outer realm." By treating all as imaginary, we are granting ourselves whatever we desire immediately. There is no time lag, no delay, no reflection, nothing of the sort. It is imagined then assumed. By feeling the need to go through a subconscious mind, you are creating another layer that is unnecessary. You are creating a delay. Even if you assume that the subconscious will be able to manifest it instantly, your imagination already had it long before. After all, how did the desire appear in the first place ? Through your imagination.

In relation to the subconscious mind, it only exists through our imagination (as does all else), yet it is treated as the source of reality, not another method of executing that reality. I AM is the source of all things (reminds me of qur'anic teachings, but I'll save that for another post). Nothing is greater than us. We must see past the fog and fully accept our I AMness.

The subconscious mind is imaginary.

#shifting community #reality shifting #shifting antis dni #shiftblr #shifting #shifters #reality shift #shifting blog #shift #subconscious #subconciousmind #neville goddard #edward art

[cozy-mp3]

hard feelings

abby x gn!reader

the aftermath of seattle is proving hard to deal with

word count: 1.6k(ish)

warnings: angst/hurt + comfort, abby is bad at processing feelings and so is reader, they're trying tho!!!, everyone cries, lev is mentioned a couple times, mentions of nightmares, kind of canon compliant?, not intended to be ellie bashing, only briefly proofread

a/n: honey, i'm home :D i promise i didnt mean to be gone this long!! i just got out of the habit of writing + using this account, i'm sorry :( i wrote this to help ease back in to everything, i missed u all and i'm gonna devour all the stuff in the ellie + abby tags that i've missed tomorrow

abby is tired. she’s so tired she can feel the weight it, the way her limbs feel like they’re almost too heavy to maneuver, the way her mind feels fuzzy around the edges like she has to pause before each passing thought in order for it to make sense. she can’t let herself sleep though, because sleeping means she has to let down her guard. she knows couldn’t live with herself if something happened to you or lev, she couldn’t save her father or manny or owen, she couldn’t protect them and she lost them and she can never make that mistake again. 

a smaller, weaker, more ashamed part of her can also admit it’s somehow easier to sit out here on the deck, to watch the peaks of the cliffs for the shadowy figures of scars or wlf even though seattle is far behind you all. it’s easier to sit and watch and defend because that’s what she’s good at, she can’t listen to the way you and lev whimper in your sleep from nightmares, the way the two of you toss and turn and thrash to get away from things she can’t see. 

she doesn’t know how comfort you, she can’t lie and say everything will be ok, she’s never been good at lying to you and she’s hesitant to fill you with false hopes, even more so lev, to treat you both like you’re too slow to see some vague, distant goal even, if it would bring you some comfort. but she can do this, she can sit out here with her gun in her lap and a mug of shitty instant coffee by her side and protect you both so that you won’t have anything to add to the things that scare you from your sleep.

she startles when the door to the cabin open and you slip through, you footsteps muffled by your thick, fuzzy socks. she can almost pretend nothing over the past week happened as you shuffle over to her in your old checkered pajama pants and a hoodie that’s soft and worn and smells like the detergent they used at the stadium. she can’t ignore your tired eyes though, the way they’re bloodshot from lack of sleep and haunted in a way she hadn’t seen before the girl from jackson and her friends had come to hunt her down. this is the only time she’s ever been glad she’s argued with you, that she hadn’t given in to your instance that you travel to find joel with her despite the fact you were healing from an injury at the time. she doesn’t think she believes in god or whatever prophet the scars worship, but when she thinks about that day too long she knows she could get on her knees and thank whoever, whatever, for preventing you from going on that trip.

you hesitate when you’re in touching distance from her and it takes you making a hesitant, aborted step towards her for abby to finally relax her posture enough to reassure you. she sets the gun down beside her cold mug of coffee, and with practiced ease, spreads her legs enough that they’ll be a comfortable cradle for your body before she holds her hand out to you. it doesn’t take long for you to get situated in her lap, your chin resting on her shoulder and your arms wrapped tight around her ribs, it’s a position you’ve been in countless times before.

“what are you looking for?,” you ask quietly, your voice tired and worn even to your own ears, it makes your brows furrow in discontent but there’s not much you can do to fix it. you shift and press your cheek to the firm muscle of abby’s shoulder, your eyes trained on the vast expanse of ocean behind her, it’s still dark enough that the moon casts a white reflection on the small waves that crest and break gently against the side of the boat.

“nothing,” abby replies, her head tilting so she can feel more of your skin against hers, you’re soft and warm and familiar in a way that makes an uncomfortable knot form in her throat, “there’s nothing there,” she continues, clearing her throat instead of acknowledging the urge to cry.

you nod, not quite knowing what to say in response to her so you shift one of your hands to stroke the tense plane of her back instead. everything has been harder than it should be since you’d left seattle. you’d dealt with loss and pain before and you thought you’d grown out of nightmares about people and what they could do to you, it’s frustrating, feeling these emotions that you’d dealt with so easily before threatening to overwhelm you the way they are.

“you should be in bed,” abby tells you after a few minutes of silence, the continued lapping of the water at the hull of the boat and your combined breathing the only sounds in the quiet still of the night.

“so should you,” you counter, shifting backwards on her lap so you can look at her face, your hand cupping her jaw, “come back with me?,” you question gently as you stroke the pad of your thumb over the skin beneath her right eye, she has tired bags that look dark enough to be bruises and the left side of her face is partially covered with gauze to protect a cut that you know hurts more than she lets on.

“i can’t,” she starts with a frustrated pinch between her brows, “i need some fresh air, i’ll come in later,” she sighs, unable to bring herself to tell you about the way her chest seizes with anxiety whenever she isn’t within arms reach of a weapon, that she convinces herself that behind every hill and peak along the coast the sniper who killed manny is waiting to take you away from her too.

“then i’ll stay,” you say, ignoring the long, suffering sigh abby lets out at your response as you lay your head against her shoulder again, “i feel better when i’m with you, so i’m staying,” you add softly to quieten whatever argument she was about to level you with, though you question if your honesty was the best response when her arms tighten around you and she makes a choked sound in the back of her throat.

“don’t say that,” abby mumbles, her lips brushing your hairline and her eyes burning with tears, “god, please don’t say that,” she says a little louder as she shakes her head, “this is all my fault, i ruined your fucking life, you should hate me,” she continues and with a start you realize she’s crying, her tears falling hot and wet against your skin.

“oh, abby,” you whisper and once again you curse the way your mind seems to want to work against you, the way you can’t come up with comfort for her the way you could before, “i don’t blame you for any of this, abby, listen to me,” you plead, your hands desperate as they find her jaw once again, your fingers clumsily wiping away her tears, “listen to me, abigail, none of this is your fault,” you persist as sympathetic tears sting at your own eyes.

abby doesn’t reply, though she allows you to guide her head against your shoulder, to rub soothing circles into her back and hold her against you as she sobs. you find yourself carding your fingers through her hair the way you would after a rough patrol, your nails scratching lightly at her scalp in a way that used to make her sigh in contentment but now only makes her cry harder.

she cries for long enough that your knees are beginning to get stiff where they’re bent either side of her, but the pain is dull enough to be ignored, especially as her sobs quiet down into strangled, hiccuping breaths that she lets out against your neck. you don’t force her to speak but you do steer her head away from you, just far enough that you can use a knuckle to wipe away the tears that cling to her lashes and to the tops of her cheeks.

“i love you,” you tell her a few moments later as she reciprocates the gesture, her calloused thumb brushing away the wetness on your cheeks, “i’ll always love you, ok?” you ask, using your hold on her jaw to finally force her eyes to meet yours so she can see that you aren’t just placating her.

“i love you,” abby replies, her eyes red rimmed and puffy but her gaze genuine and steady on yours, even as you bend down to kiss her forehead, “god, we’re a mess,” she mumbles with a wet laugh after she’s pressed a brief kiss to the corner of your mouth, her grip on you loosening as you stand up and tuck her hair behind her ears.

“it’s ok, we’ll work it out together,” you reassure her, giving her the best smile you can muster, weak but honest, “come back to bed with me?,” you ask again, wrapping your fingers around her wrist to gently tug her to her feet. she makes a face like it’s painful but allows you to help her to her feet and lead her inside the cabin, her steps clumsy enough that it gives away her exhaustion but willing to follow you regardless.

it’s warm and dark inside despite the dawn that was lightening sky you’d left behind and lev’s sprawled out across the mattress you share, his breathing deep and slow as he sleeps. it takes a moment to manoeuvre yourself and abby around him without waking him but you manage, settling under the covers and letting abby tuck your head beneath her chin. she insists on sleeping with her back to the door and you’re both so exhausted that you can’t fight her, but as you close your eyes you promise yourself you’ll talk about it with her in the morning, all of it, you’ll work it all out.

#abby x reader #abby anderson x reader #tlou2 x reader

[luvfy0dor]

“We Still Worship This Love...♡⁠˖” Fyodor Dostoevsky x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; Suggestive, maybe a little toxic, wine but it's not prominent

Description; A very short drabble about Fyodor and Reader's way of fixing problems and arguments HEAVILY based n False God. I think on the citrus scale this might be lime. (Edit like 2 months later- this is not lime I was just nervous to post anything suggestive at all 😭)

A/n; Okay, so basically the rundown on this is this was the first idea I had that I was supposed to write and post here all the way back in August omg. Obviously I haven't until now so here you guys go! I know it's not the best but I also wrote this at 5 in the morning lol. Also might rebrand to pink idk how I feel

ೃ⁀➷

Though you and Fyodor had your differences through arguments here and there, you made sure to make it up to each other at one point or another. They were things you both tried pushing past, feeling as though arguing with him was comparable to an eternity in hell; he's both stubborn and you hated the feeling of guilt that would build up in the pit of your stomach if the ordeal wasn't resolved. You thought that you could patch it up pretty well with the soft kisses and caresses that were shared after the fact, the temporarily forgotten about wine glasses shimmering on the table under the dim light while the two of you got caught up in yourselves. Every encounter of this sort gave you some sort hope, although it was proven to be blind everytime the cycle repeated. You had put so much faith into your love for him that you started not caring that it was comparable to worshipping a false god. You believed that your relationship was true love, and that was all that mattered.

Fyodor loved that you felt that way, returning to him even after exchanging harsh words with eachother. Most nights the both of you would take time to calm down on your own first, gathering your thoughts and sipping on a glass of something, anything that would act as support. Sometimes it was water, sometimes it was wine. You'd try talking it out with eachother, and everytime it worked you ended up entangled in his arms within a matter of minutes; his hands on your waist and back as he softly kissed on your neck while whispering and murmuring quiet apologies to completely win you back over. As did you the second you saw an opportunity, your hands were placed on his shoulder and chest while you straddled him. Your trail of bite marks always made their way down his body throughout nights like these when you showed each other the softest love possible.

→ Fyodors hand rested on the small of your back as you stood between his knees, tilting his head up in order to plant gentle kisses to his lips, only ever pulling away in order to get air but occasionally mumbling against them. "I'm sorry, I get a little dramatic sometimes, but you know that, don't you?" You ask quietly, your eyes flickering from his pretty violet ones to his pink lips that contrasted his pale skin well. That porcelain color was now tainted with hints of pinks on his cheeks and purples on his lower neck and chest. He hummed, a small but visible smirk plastered on his face as his thumb rubbed up and down against the skin of your back underneath your top. "You're forgiven, moya lyubov." He quietly accepts your apology, his hands snaking further up your shirt, pulling you further towards him. You laugh a bit and lean further into him. "Lay with me, my dear." He asks, to which you comply with a smile. Wherever that night takes you would most likely only add to your will to stay with him, but that wasn't your biggest concern in this moment ♡⁠˖

A/n; This isn't to glorify toxic relationships at all if this could count as one. I've just wanted to write this for a couple months now and I'm finally getting to it.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd headcanons #bsd x reader #bsd fanfic #fanfic #bsd fyodor #fyodor x reader #bungo stray dogs fyodor #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor bsd #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor #fanfiction #fyodor fluff #bsd fluff #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bungo stray dogs x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #fyodor x y/n #fyodor x you #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x you #lime

[youremyheaven]

Can you elaborate on your experiences with goddess worship? 🩷🩷

I started my journey with goddess worship in 2022. Chanting has always appealed to me and chanting mantras (beej mantras of the deity in question) while visualising the deity is how it started for me. I was drawn to a certain Goddess almost instinctively even though I did not know much about her up until that point and connecting with her energy made me feel really good. I felt bodily sensations that felt powerful and by chanting, it's akin to embodying the energy of the Goddess within yourself and making yourself sacred??? I remember how during the height of my practice, I'd get told often that I emanate a certain "glow" and that I had a very sage like aura lmao. I just remember being stared at often and being perceived in an almost exalted way.

However late 2022- much of 2023 was a tough time for me and I fell out of touch with my practice and really suffered as a result. I felt myself go haywire, I gained more weight, my hair was falling out in chunks, my skin was breaking out and it's like I did a 180 😭 I felt really lost spiritually and otherwise and struggled to feel any kind of balance. And these had very physical repercussions for me.

Then obviously, I found my way back and I regained fresh perspective and how important my practices including Goddess worship have been in shaping my internal landscape. Several months ago, I struggled with severe anxiety and it was prayer that helped me get through it. During those times yoga did feel a bit mechanical or robotic but I kept doing it simply because I'd rather do it than not do it.

Finding my way back into the practice has taught me so much. Spirituality is truly a calling and no matter how much you read/research/practice, unless the Divine calls you, you will remain blind to the true nature of living. This is not to discourage anyone, in fact I suggest deep diving into it yourself and see what you gain from it. It's worthwhile to keep showing up everyday until you're called in further.

Also no spiritual practice makes you invulnerable. You're still human and you'll still make mistakes and be hurt/upset but you will have more grace moving through these experiences. You'll suffer less than others who make suffering their entire personality. One cannot embody the Goddess without also embodying her boundless mercy, infinitude reservoir of strength and tranquility.

It's always amusing to me when people say things like "oh why did the goddess not give you $5 billion and your dream life, what's even the purpose of worship them???" or "how can you be spiRitUaL when you watch movies/listen to music/are involved with men???". Being spiritually evolved does not mean you turn into a Zen master who lives in a cave.

The Goddess is not a vending machine. You want xyz things bc we live in a capitalist society where you're taught to value them. The Goddess gives you internally and when you're sorted within, you can make strides in life. Obviously she also often throws miracles your way but it's important to understand that the purpose of prayer and worship is not making $$$ or whatever. Im not saying you shouldn't pray for money or material things just that you shouldn't look at prayer as some kind of quick fix for financial woes???

You can still have a life, hobbies, interests etc and you don't have to "transcend" beyond them. You don't become less Zen by shaking your ass to Nicki Minaj 😬

However it will be hard to be a part of stan culture and celebrity worship because you won't care anymore and it won't feel right?? We worship money, fame and celebrities because our soul craves for connection and worship is inherently a part of our making. But it's important to not worship false gods (like money, fame and celebrities). Remember you are what you worship.

My personality has changed remarkably in the last couple of years and maybe even every few months, i feel like a new person and that's another feature of one's evolution. It's easier to accept and imbibe fresh insights and be comfortable with growth and change.

The concept of mantra purusha (which is different but similar to all the chanting ive been doing all along) is still very new to me (thank you to that anon who lmk about it) but Im reading David Frawley's book and it's all kind of coming together.

Goddess worship helps me feel connected to a profound nurturing spirit, a tranquil cosmic bliss, divine sensuality and ultimate peace and abundance.

All that said, do not start your Goddess worship unless you're prepared to commit to it daily and tbh once you start and feel its effect, you probably will want to worship everyday hehe

its actually helped me embody femininity in a way that did not feel limiting instead more transcendent, powerful and beyond whatever society tells you to be.

#goddess worship

[onestepbackwards]

In the self aware AU, if some characters can mess around with the code, can Player (in the real world) change PLA to their liking as well? Would it be similar to modding a game then? Now that I think about it, in any self aware game AU, if the player were to install mods in a game, would the characters see them as some kind of creator god? (Imagine being some random npc and seeing someone changing the colors of the landscape or spawning a shiny out of nowhere...Volo's reaction though...)

That’s actually an interesting idea!! I have seen a few mods for PLA, such as some graphics mods, and I saw one for Sneasler’s climbing speed. I imagine there’s been a bunch more since I last looked! So if in the Self Aware Au, Reader mods the game, it has so much potential here. Much like Ingo, Reader would know the code incredibly well, or at least know how to read it, and what each line means to some degree. So like, if you do mod the game. It probably only instills in their mind that you are in fact a god. Even if you don’t ever end up in the game, the fact you can just,,, do these things kinda cements it. Reader: *Mods shiny Arceus into the game* :D Volo: What the fuck

Expect him desperately trying to get your attention first. Anyone who can manipulate Arceus has to be the true god. He’s horrified to know him and his people have been worshiping a false one. Well, maybe not entirely false. Arceus still may have made this universe, but what is Arceus to someone who can control them like a toy? He’ll be frothing at the mouth though trying to figure you out, and how to get your attention. Anytime he tries, it’s as if there’s binding around him, keeping him from interacting with you or your vessel. That’s fine though, he won’t be deterred. Maybe he should ask Ingo about those numbers he mentions seeing... The other NPCs are now nervous though. Some revere you in awe, others respectfully keep their distance. Laventon is curious about you. You change things right before their eyes! You don’t seem malicious either, and seem determined to keep your vessel, the hero, safe. He’s probably the least wary of you, and is excited to learn more about you! Maybe he can convince the others that you aren’t an bad god, and maybe worshiping you isn’t a bad thing? After all, you just seem happy to create things! Ingo is also curious about you. You seem attached to him, and love to battle him. You don’t seem like an evil god, though he isn’t sure if that’s what the should refer to you as. You obviously like creating things, even summoning shiny pokemon out of nowhere, and battling him with them! You can’t be so bad, right? After all, you just seem to be messing with the numbers he sometimes sees when he closes his eyes... Cyllene is curious, but very wary of you. She honestly would fear you if you didn’t show such compassion through the hero. Surely, someone who cares for the child like they are their own, isn’t so bad? And it isn’t like you’ve done anything awful, either. You just seem content messing with the world in small ways, and adjusting how a few things look and work. You haven’t destroyed anything, and some stuff is arguably better. Still, she is unaware of what your true motives are. She’ll stick to herself for now.

#pokemon #ingo x reader #volo x reader #laventon x reader #cyllene x reader #warden ingo #pokemon cyllene #pokemon laventon #pokemon volo #ingo #cyllene #laventon #volo #self aware pokemon #self aware ingo #self aware volo #self aware laventon #self aware cyllene #anon #ask #zed.writes

[olympushit]

This isn't a question but I literally LOVE your blog & takes so much , especially when it comes to Ares. I'm a devotee of his and I always lose it whenever someone mischaracterizes him as some misogynistic moron or an idiot when that couldn't be further from the truth. I never understand why people feel the need to dumb him down so much or act like he's not just as worthy of respect as Pallas Athena just because of his nature.

It literally makes my day to receive such positivity, and it's even greater tha fact that I find more and more Ares supporters!

All gods deserve to be respected equally, because I believe that no god is better that the other. Everyone has unique abilities that the others do not possess and this makes them needed and worshipped.

By no means I agree that anyone deserves more respect than the other, everyone represents something different.

As for Ares, I think that people should delve deeper into greek mythology, search and interpret what they read. Also, we need to differentiate greek mythology from all those false movies Hollywood presents. Ares isn't a misogynist, nor a rapist. Mythology claims that Ares was feasted by women and protected the mistreated ones!

It's really sad to see such degradation! But that's why we are Ares' Army! Personally, I don't believe in the Greek Gods, but being Greek always draw me close to discovering even more things about my cultural heritage! 😉😁

#greek mythology #greek gods #ares #ask answered #my asks #answered #ares greek mythology #ares greek god #on this blog we love ares #stop hating on ares #all the gods deserve to be respected equally