#ghost writes

[ghostofmarvel]

Father Jud Duplenticy Smut Blurb

Pairing: Jud Duplenticy x Gender Neutral!Reader

Content Ahead: religious imagery (duh), reader confesses to lying, father Jud has to relieve them of their sins somehow, sexual acts in a church, father jud is a service switch ofc, written by an agnostic, “Child” is used in a “Child of God” manner, allusions to smut, reader has ambiguous genitalia

Synopsis: You call for a private meeting with Father Jud to confess a lie, little did you know there was more that needed to be confessed.

Word Count: 1.3k

Author’s Note: just a little blurb to get off my chest bc this man is consuming my every thought and we NEED more fics. lmk what you think :3 send requests and i will try my best to fulfill them <3! also please correct me and teach me if i get aspects of religion wrong!!! i try my best to be accurate and technical but it’s been years since i’ve practiced or gone to a church so help a guy out 🙏🏽

Part 2 can be read here

Image from this post by @custardhorse .

This blog is 18+ ONLY!!!! MDNI you WILL be blocked! Ageless blogs you risk being blocked too!

Father Jud is a pleaser, a giver, a service provider. His title of priesthood is one he wears daily— a servant and conduit of God and the gospel. Jud exists to serve his people who enter the double doors of his (inherited) chapel and sit in the pews to listen to His word. He exists to guide sinful souls to the path of God, so he sits in the confessional and listens to the words of the damned and attempt to guide them to salvation.

But it’s hard for Father Jud to remain unaffected by the confessions he hears. He hears so much constantly every time he wears his clerical collar— the darkest truths one can carry are spoken into his ears. He struggles daily to shoulder those truths while living; he has to do so in order to remain strong enough to carry out his acts of service, but sometimes he has a penitent confess in such a way he can’t help but want to do more than what’s expected in pastoral care. But how can he resist the need to protect his flock when he knows so much about them?

How can he resist you?

You, who is new to the town and new to the faith, as far as he knows. You have your questions and fundamental truths that the faith cannot change, which sets you far apart from the rest of the flock Father Jud has come to know and care for. He always wants to hear more from you, egging you into expanding on all of your thoughts and questions to understand you deeper. He claims it’s in order to serve you best, but you can’t help but second guess if there’s ulterior motives when noticing his eyes lingering at your lips when you speak, or your body when you stand up to leave. You’d be a liar if you said you didn’t stare at Father Jud in a similar manner. Honestly… you are a liar for saying the faith is what brought you through those cathedral doors. You entered this church with architectural interest, you just decided to stay when the way-too-attractive-to-be-a-priest showed you the sincere care and attention you’ve been deprived of for far too long.

You feared judgement from the other church goers if they learned your truth, so you’ve asked Father Jud for a private moment to confess your lie— your sin. You didn’t think your request would lead you to an empty church on a rainy night, however. Sitting in the front pew looking up at the tall cleric who’s looking down at you with big fluttering eyelashes and a giant cross in the background weighs heavy, but it’s the ideal circumstance to reveal the truth.

“So, what can I do for you, my Child?”

You gulp on air at the sudden break in silence, your hands instantly getting sweaty. Why are you getting so nervous? This is by far not the worst thing you’ve confessed to the man, but the unpredictability of his reaction is what scares you. So you speak your truth, “Please, forgive me, Father, for I have lied to you since the moment we met. I am not one of faith, at least not one as devoted as you. I came here because I wanted to see the inside of these church walls after admiring them from the outside for so long. I didn’t mean to start regular attending but when you greeted me and invited me in, I couldn’t say no. And so I kept coming back— for you.”

He hums in response, his hands clasped in front of him as he nods. He takes a moment to contemplate his words before questioning, “Why is it that you requested a private meeting with me?”

Your eyebrows furrow. Why is that the question he asks? You take a second before responding, “I… I just wanted to confess-“

He cuts you off, “No. You’ve confessed to me before during service hours with no problem. Why did you want to meet with me privately?”

Suddenly having the man of God stare down at you feels intimidating. You could tell him your fear of confessing within proximity of devoted churchgoers, but even you know that is only a partial truth. Why did you ask for a private meeting? Your thoughts start racing along with your heart as you break eye contact with the man in front of you.

Before you can get too lost in your own head, you see Father Jud step closer and kneel before you. A hand reaches to your knee and outer upper thigh. Your eyes instantly lock into the touch, to the big hand resting on you before traveling up the sleeved arm, up his collared neck adorned with the colored tattoo, to his face with his beautiful eyes staring back. Your heart begins to race along with your thoughts— there’s a kneeling priest before you and you feel your lower body begin to match the heat of his hand on you.

You begin to stutter quietly, “Father, I-” before getting cut off by Jud, “Lying is one of the most common sins, did you know? Your confession weighs little in comparison to others, but of course that’s not something you’re suppose to do either; much like how you’re not supposed to stare at a member of the clergy with lust during service.”

Blood rushes throughout your body as your heartbeat quickens. You feel Father Jud’s hand tighten around you as you two both stare into each other’s dilated eyes. You’re at a loss for words. So Father Jud continues, “I know the people of this church, this town. I know the face of a sinner when they carry their sin so heavily and so closely to the surface that it’s threatening to spill. I know the face of lust and want and need. Tell me, my Child, what is it that you need from me? Why is it that you called for this private meeting?”

Your hand lays on top of his, gripping softly, “Forgive me Father, for the lust and want ravage me. It needs- I need you.”

He smiles, “You have me, sweet sinner.” He caresses your knees and thighs with two hands now, “Now tell me, where do you need me? Show me.”

You stay still for a moment as you look into his eyes for any possible signs of doubt. But when you stare into his nearly black orbs, all you see is sincerity and lust, maybe even a need to service— one you’ve seen him wear often as he performs his heavenly duties. It feels wrong to undress in front of a cleric, but you’ve never seen a man on his knees if it wasn’t out of desperation or salvation.

You lift your hips for a brief moment to pull down your bottoms before sitting back on the pew, spreading your legs before him. Father Jud stares at the center mass between your legs, his eyes and tongue watering at the sight. He can’t help the tightening of his own pants as his hands comes into contact with your bare thighs. He massages your thighs lightly as he adjusts to the warmness without fabric in the way. His eyes are locked to what is between your legs— he bites his bottom lips as he watches wetness exude from between.

His heartbeat races in excitement and in shame. He knows he will have to pay penance for this later. He knows you are breaking his devotion to God, but how can he tell the difference between devoting to God and devoting to you? How can he differentiate the Heaven he reads and the one he sees right in front of him?

He inches closer to your throbbing warm center. He inhales your scent deeply, saving it in his memory, before exhaling heavily. You twitch at the feeling of his hot breath so close to where you needed him most, unable to hold back the whimper and buckle of your hips towards him. Father Jud lets out a low moan at your neediness.

Before showing you mercy, he looks up at the ceiling and does the sign of the cross as he quietly prays, “Bless me Father for I am about to sin.”

Part 2 can be read here

A/N: this was just supposed to be some quick headcannons but then i was like "oh i might as well just write a little blurb" since i got carried away but, wouldn't you guess it, i got carried away again soooooo i'm splitting this into 2 parts to at least get something out there for all those starving for Jud Duplenticy fics (me). sorry to leave y'all hanging! i'll add part 2's link here once it's done. part 2 will mainly be oral sex (both receiving) and should be out soon :3 i'll make it worth it i promise!

[stagghost]

My favorite flavor of dadson is a dad who just loves his little boy so fucking much he can’t help but feel every kind of love for his kid, even sexual and romantic. Dad who’s boy just happens to be his soulmate and who he loves and cherishes no matter what. Dad who grooms his son not cuz he wants to hurt him, but cuz he can’t handle the idea of his baby not reciprocating his love for him and his desire to make sure his son doesn’t get hurt by some random person who isn’t going to love him as well as his daddy can ♡

[ghostof-awriter]

Thinking again about the tenderness of Jean. How he carries a little bit of everyone he loves with him at all times. His collection of items from the Trojans, the haunting notes and reminders of the Nest, the postcards from Kevin. He holds fruit gently to make sure it doesn’t bruise. He loves gardening. His favorite color is brown because of the people he loves and garden dirt. He keeps a list of all of his favorite things that make life worth living.

His life has been outrageously horrible, but at his core he is full of love.

[graceseavers]

Can they sing?

Headcanons of if the various Goslings can sing or not. (Lars, Ken, Court, Julian, Holland, Ryland, Henry, Jacob, Colt, Seb, Driver, William)

Lars - Yes! - High Tenor - His voice is a much higher register than people expect. - He doesn't sing often, or around others like ever. But he's the type to sing quietly to himself while cleaning the house or cooking. - He doesn't like his voice, or anyone hearing it. You have to be very special to him for him to sing around you.

Ken - Kind of - Tenor - Separate headcanon that Barbieland is built on a belief system, as long as he believes that he's doing something correctly, he is. So he can do whatever, as long as his whole heart is in it. - But in the real world its a bit more difficult. - He loves singing, and has a pretty decent voice…however he sings in cursive. (like when he sings Push). - He thinks he's being so fucking cool, but ends up just sounding a bit silly. Don't tell him that though, he'll get sad. - Will sing along to anything and everything in the car, or humming along with whatever he's listening to as he walks down the street.

Court - No - Bass, but very monotone. - He hasn't even thought about even trying to sing for a very long time. - Sometimes he'll hum here and there, but its so low and quiet that if you're not listening for it- you don't hear it - Claire once asked him to sing happy birthday to her, and actually try. - His voice isn't...great. Its monotone and unsure of where its going. He doesn't talk much let alone sing, so I can't imagine he really remembers how.

Julian - No - Baritone. But will never get heard. - Similar to Court. His voice is barely used as is. - He wont sing, probably cant, and doesn't like the thought of it. - Maybe he liked singing as a child, but his mother caught him once and teased him to the point of him never wanting to sing again. Holland - He sure thinks so, but no - High Tenor - Oh boy - I'm sorry but he can't. - His voice cracks and is almost always off key, but he doesn't know that. - Holland loves a good karaoke bar, and will make it everyone's problem. He'll be singing his heart out into that mic. and you will clap because you want to support him, but its the worst thing you've ever heard. - He does the same with the songs in the car. Ryland - Yes! - Tenor - He can sing, but is too embarrassed to ever do it around people. - If you ask very very nicely in the privacy of your own home, he might sing softly to you. - However, once for a school assembly. If the students reached a certain donation amount for whatever they were doing, they got certain prizes. One of the prizes was a performance by one of the departments. They reached that goal, and the science department was chosen. - Ryland, being one of the better singers of the bunch had to be the lead and sing a silly little song with his coworkers in front of all his students. - Thinking back on it, it was a fun experience. But in the moment his anxiety almost took him out. Never make him do that again Henry - Yes! - Baritone - He sings, it doesn't sound half too bad. - However he only chooses very depressing songs to sing along to as he paints. Too emo to make himself sing something upbeat /j - Just has one of those voices that sound sad. Jacob - Technically yes - Tenor - Most likely had to take voice lessons as a kid, his mom wanting to make sure he was perfect. - Only really kept up with it in an attempt to attract women. - He can sing, very well actually. But deep down he kind of hates doing it. It's never been fun for him. It's always been a tool. - Women love hearing him sing, or at least a lot of them do. - And because of that he can't think of one without thinking of the other, so he doesn't even sing along to songs in the car. He'll tap the beat on the steering wheel, and even mouth the words to his favorites. But he wont sing. Colt - Yes! - Bass - He can sing, it's nothing ground breaking but his voice is pretty good. - Will sing songs badly/in a goofy way on purpose when he's just having a good time (aka in the car or at karaoke) - He loves jamming out/singing his feelings out in his car as he drives. Always putting more emotion into it than needed. He's in it for the vibes. - But if asked to actually sing something seriously, his voice is a lot deeper than you'd expect. Seb - Yes! - Tenor/Baritone. - Obviously he can sing, he doesn't like singing alone though. - He's more into music for the instruments, all he plays in his car is Jazz or other instrumentals - But if asked, he'd happily sit with you at the piano and sing a duet. - Or even just play the music while listening to you sing. Driver - Maybe? - Tenor - He doesn't know how to, and doesn't have much interest in learning. - Sometimes he'll hum along to the radio, but it's not very often. - If he were to sing, I feel like he's the type to naturally be very good at it. But he doesn't. So that voice will most likely never get heard. - and he's okay with that. William - Kind of - High Tenor - Most likely did choir in highschool, knows the basics. Wanted to be good at it so badly. - He's got an average range/talent. And will sing one song at a karaoke event if intoxicated enough. But no more than one song - He'll sing quietly to himself in the car as he drive, barely above a whisper. Even if he's the only one in the car. - Most of the time he doesn't even realize he's doing it.

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Slipknot Drabbles: What They Wear To Bed FLUFF

Hello! I have a request for Pyjama Anon! Just some short drabbles about what the guys wear to bed! I hope you enjoy!

WARNINGS: None

My Masterlist! ~ Tip Jar! ~ AO3 Link!

Divider Credit: @adornedwithlight

Corey:

Corey was all about comfort. Performing was hard on his body, more often than not leaving him with sore muscles and his throat completely raw. There was something almost therapeutic about throwing on his favorite pair of fleece pajama pants and an old, worn  T-shirt that had definitely seen better days. You would slip into bed together, hushed goodnights and soft kisses as you settled into the mattress. He loves the way it felt when you would slip your hands under his shirt, letting your delicate touch roam over his body. He groans as you knead into his tired muscles, “don’t worry about me, baby.” He argued, but he made no move to stop your attentive care.

“You work too hard,” you mumble, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “You gotta let me take care of you sometimes, yeah?” It was almost like a routine you had worked yourselves into, most of your nights ending the same way, with you noticing your boyfriend had drifted off by the sound of him snoring. It was comfortable, just how Corey liked it.

Sid:

It was impossible to keep clothes on Sid to begin with. He would constantly lose his shoes in the hotel rooms, you'd blink and he's suddenly walking around in nothing but his boxers in the tour bus, and if it was even a little too warm outside? Forget it, the shirt's coming off. Bed time was absolutely no different. He would start off in a T-shirt and some sweats, the two of you cuddled up in bed while you would absentmindedly scroll through your phones or watch a movie. Your hands would eventually drift under his shirt, just wanting to feel the warmth of his skin under your fingers. He would just chuckle, sitting you up and slipping the shirt over his head, pressing a kiss to your temple as you settled back down. Eventually, he would end up complaining about how hot it was, kicking his sweatpants onto the floor. He would chuckle as you teased him for always being naked. “Gotta let the body breathe, babe.” He would joke in response. Sometimes, he managed to keep his boxers on the entire night. But, more often than not, those also ended up getting discarded on the floor with the rest of his clothes. It was hard enough to keep clothes on him to begin with, it became even harder due to the fact that your boyfriend was almost always insatiably horny.

Chris:

There was nothing that you loved more than crawling into bed at the end of the long day, something that was only made more enjoyable now that you had someone to settle down with for the night. Chris slept hot, always. It was a blessing in the winter, being able to curl up against your own personal heater. But, he was also no stranger to the nefarious pranks from his band mates, meaning he always had to be somewhat clothed. Often opting for a thin pair of basketball shorts, maybe a T-shirt if it was particularly cold that night. Chris absolutely adores sleeping skin to skin if that's something you're comfortable with. He loves having you pressed to his strong chest, his fingers lazily dragging over your muscles, feeling how they shifted under his delicate touch. Your nights would always be filled with hushed conversations and laughter, Chris unable to stop himself from stealing chaste kisses that would leave you giggling until you eventually drifted off to sleep in his arms.

Jim:

Sleeping with Jim was always a mess of tangled limbs as he crushed you underneath his massive body. Usually opting to sleep in just his boxers it always presented you the perfect opportunity to cuddle up with him. He would open his arms for you to crawl into, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you nestled against him, your body molding perfectly against his. You were the puzzle piece he never knew he needed up until the fateful day you two had met. Now, he couldn’t imagine spending a night away from you. Whether it was crammed into one of the bunks in the tour bus, or being sprawled out across his too big bed, only to end up tangled together in the middle of the mattress come morning, Jim always needed you within arms reach, he couldn’t sleep otherwise. “Come here, baby.” He mumbles groggily. He hikes your leg over his hip, the heavy weight of his muscular arm settling across your waist. “Comfy?” He asks quietly, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips as you let out a hum in response. He gently cards his fingers through your hair, the steady rise and fall of his chest eventually lulling you to sleep.

Mick:

Mick chuckles as you pout at him from the edge of the bed. “Just go grab one of my shirts out of the drawer, love.”

“But, yours is warm.” You whine in response. “And it smells like you.” He sighs, eyeing you playfully.

“Always so needy, aren’t you mama?” He teases, letting out a soft laugh at the sight of your flustered expression. “Anything for my pretty girl.” He slips his T-shirt over his head, leaving him in a pair of simple, black sweatpants. You pull the soft fabric over your head, the way too big shirt pooling around your thighs. Mick lets out a quiet hum as his gaze drags hungrily over you.

“I definitely can’t complain about you stealing my clothes when you look like that.” He takes your hand, pulling you into bed next to him. You settle against his strong chest smiling as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Good night, you little thief.” He teases, making you laugh. You share a few more soft kisses until you eventually drift off in his arms.

Joey:

Joey groans, rolling out his shoulders as he kicks the hotel room door shut behind you. “You were incredible out there tonight.” You say with a smile, your arms sliding over his shoulders.

“Yeah?” He grins back, letting out a hum as your lips slot against his. “It’s all thanks to you being there.” He whispers against your lips, stealing one more chaste kiss before pulling away. Your cheeks grow warm at his sweet words, the two of you separating in order to get ready for bed. You slip under the covers with a sigh, settling underneath the cover while you wait for Joey to finish up in the bathroom. “Jesus, it’s fucking freezing in here.” You hear him complain as his stark naked form darts from the bathroom, practically diving into the bed. You giggle, pulling him into your arms once you manage to find him under the mess of blankets.

“Well, maybe if you actually wore some clothes it wouldn’t be so cold.” You tease in response.

“Yeah, but this is so much more comfortable.” He rebuttals with a smirk. He wraps his arms around you, his head nestling against your chest, making you giggle in response. He lets out a hum of approval as you play with his hair, his breathing growing slow and even as he drifts off in your loving embrace.

Paul:

You squeal as Paul blankets his full weight on top of you, he groans as he settles, chuckling when he feels you struggling against him. “You’re crushing me!” You giggle, pounding on him with your fists.

“But, I have a crush on you.” He argues back with a laugh. Eventually giving in, he rolls over, pulling you on top of him in the process. You let out a pleased hum as he presses his lips to yours. You smile as you cuddle into him, your hands wandering over his strong chest and soft stomach, tracing along the waistband of the shorts he had worn to bed. “What are you doing?” He asks with a curious, playful smile.

“You just feel nice, that’s my favorite thing about cuddling with you is being able to rub my hands over you.” His features soften, studying you with an expression of pure adoration.

“You're sweet.” He cups your cheek in his hand, gently angling your jaw upward in order to place a gentle kiss to your lips. He pulls you against him, enjoying the feeling of your fingers absentmindedly wandering over him until you both eventually fell asleep.

[ghost-toast8]

Masterlist

I have an absolutely brilliant Arcana AU idea.

I Introduce...

The Reversed Vesuvia AU

In simplest terms, the good guys are bad and the bad guys are good.

It's Inspired by a fic I found on Ao3 that I can't remember the name or author of unfortunately because I'd love to give proper credit. I tried looking for similar ideas and was surprised to not see a lot of these kinds of AUs. Even if you consider The Arcana fandom to be dying out, there wasn't a whole lot of content like this dating even from back when it was at its most popular. But if fandom spaces have taught me anything, it's to be the change I want to see.

Anyway, here's some notes on it. I tried to organize my throughts but I know it's still kind of messy.

Background/lore/basics: The Red Plague still hit Vesuvia and raged strong on battle fields. The only difference is instead of Lucio making a deal with the Wyrm of Pestilence to gain power which ended up leading to the plague’s release, an unnamed magician had made a deal with the Devil. The exact motives are unclear, with that magician long gone after being one of the first to succumb to the illness.

Lucio, after turning 18, was given more responsibility in his tribe and ended up getting involved in a war between two more powerful nations (Vesuvia and I suppose the second nation doesn’t really matter). This is the battle that lead to his arm being amputated by Doctor Devorak. After which, Vesuvia’s current Count requests Lucio’s presence. They become friends, Lucio slowly steps away from his tribe, and the title of Count is eventually given to Lucio.

Lucio ends up meeting Nadia during the first masquerade Vesuvia ever hosted. Lucio hoped it would be a good way to form bonds with other countries. They got married, and Nadia wanted more power than she was allotted as Countess. After six years of marriage, the Count was found dead in his wing by mysterious (magical) circumstances, leaving Nadia, the widowed Countess, to step up into his role as Vesuvia’s leader.

How characters are different than canon

Nadia Satrivana: Somewhere in the prologue in the game the MC mentions to themselves of rumors of Nadia being a tyrant. Put short, those aren’t rumors here. Nadia is a Satrivana, and one of the many princesses from Prakra. Her mother has a title of ruling one of the largest, most successful nations in history. All her elder sisters either are taking up ruling over domains of their own or finding a calling that sets them a part of one another. Being the youngest, Nadia was left feeling obsolete. There’s such prestige to live up to. She saw marrying Lucio to be a way to get her foot in the door.

She remains authoritative, direct, and strong, but is known to be quick to lose patience. She shows little grace to those who step out of line. She wants the image of a perfect city, even if she isn't improving enough aspects of Vesuvia quickly enough for such an image tobe properly upheld. She's not above fear tactics. She wants her word to be treated as law. Do not mutter under your breath in her presence, roll your eyes, click your tongue, or make it seem like your questioning her too much. She might throw you into the Colosseum to be the next source of entertainment for the nobles, while being the next example for everyone else. If not that, she still loves to be creative...

Asra Alnazar: A little orphan child that found himself to be gifted, and let that power go to his head. He had lost his parents far too young and was left to fend for himself. He was nothing better than a street rat with a few fancy tricks. One day, he met a magician. This magician, fascinated with the potential he showed being so young, gifted Asra Faust's egg and promised to show the kid great spells. This magician happened to be the same one the released the plague, of course Asra knew this individual before they fell I'll. The magician taught Asra magic, and poor morals surrounding it. The better you are at spells, the better you are. Seriously, you begin to rise above people. They begin to sink to be beneath you.

Egotistical is a good word to use. His business is composed of hasty deals made by people who are desperate. It's rumored he owns souls. He doesn't do anything unless he feels like there's something he can get return. Anyone who's heard the story of Lucio's death knows that the Great Magician Asra was involved. It becomes speculation of whether he was the murderer or not.

Lucio (Montag) Morgasson: He had a lot of big dreams and lofty goals. He dreamed of getting out of his tribe with it's more outdated and arguably primitive ways to see the progress through the rest of the world and be a part of that change. His enthusiasm did lead to reckless decisions, poor calls on occasion, and a fumble here or there. After all, he agreed to marry Nadia rather quickly with hopes that would boost his status faster to make work with other countries easier.

He really did have the best of intentions. It's a shame that the light of his future was so bright it blinded him of the present. He never saw his death coming. Now left as a ghost, he can't do anything really. Only Asra has seen his spectral presence lurking around. But that means both Nadia and Julian know he's still around too. It's best for Lucio's sake to stay clear of the magician, lest he gets banished to some, most likely unpleasant, realm. The late Count has been forced to stand by and watch the city he was slowly cultivating for greatness be plowed over and soiled with terror and mistreatment.

Julian (Ilyushka) Devorak: The doctor was so enamored with the plague. Where magic meets science, that's what those bright red beetles were. Yes. While Julian still doesn't care all that much for magic and doubts the fantastical aspects of it, he still sees it as something that can be studied and understood. He's theatrical and insensitive, at least if he doesn't care for you. That's the common denominator between all of Vesuvia's most feared names. If he doesn't like you, if any of them don't like you, just hope they don't acknowledge you. Blending in keeps you safe. Keeps you off the vivisection tables.

He remains loyal, protective, and charismatic. Only here, none of it is an attempt to hide insecurity or direct attention away from self-loathing tendencies. Julian is too emersed in his research and his position as the palace's most highly regarded physician to really reflect on himself. With his status, it seems kind of silly to. Nadia's actions in her position have rubbed off on other people. If you're in her circle, you can be regarded as being like her.

Portia (Pasha) Devorak: Now I'm being so honest, I struggled here. Not because Portia is a precious angel that could do no wrong, but because I struggled with how to make her cruel when her position in the palace is a servant. Nadia still has Portia as a favorite, so the redhead wouldn't have to fear about messing up or having other servants mishaps come back on her. What made most sense was to promote her a tad, not quite making her a courtier, as the tyrant has no court of second opinions that waste time.

She's in charge of all the palace servants. Chefs, maids, gardeners, tailors, you name it. Portia over sees them. From there, the best I could do was make her incredibly morally grey. Portia knows what's around her isn't right. Portia also knows she can't change anything. It may not be right, but things are working for her. She can just choose not to watch fights at the Colosseum. She can choose only to see her brother after he's cleaned himself off from whatever got on him in the palace basements. She can pity the servants or townspeople that found themselves unable to flee, but that hurts so she chooses not to. She can't think of everyone else like vermin yet, but she'll get there. She has to protect her own mind. For now, she just doesn't get involved.

Muriel: He didn't like hurting people as a child. That stayed true at least. When a group of orphans wouldnt leave him alone he was left with little options. They needed him to steal, to confront shop owners while the rest of them got away. He got tired of it and I'd what he had to in order to get them off his back. After that he was aimless. Asra, his good friend, got him a place of higher standing. Nadia still saw Muriel as valuable for his size and strength and put him in charge of the Colosseum. He learned that hurting people wasn't that bad. He's learned to not mind the screams and the killing. It's a dog eat dog world. Do or die. If he wasn't who he was, he could very well be the people he executes. This is for his survival.

He's still terribly reclusive. He gets invited to events often but won't attend unless Asra will be there. He can still count on one hand the people he tolerates. He's still quiet, still ominous, intimidating, scary...

Now on the other hand, the courtiers, were some of the people to help individuals out of Vesuvia when things went bad. They themselves fled after they helped as many as they could.

And I'm sure you're wondering where the MC, the beloved apprentice of Asra, comes into this? Well, if this sounds super cool, I'd be willing to write a fic on this AU. My plans for that would be that the MC, who I'm gonna refer to as (Name) moving forward, would be trying to kick start and lead a rebellion. The courtiers are her support system (I like writing for fem self inserts, that's my preference, that's what I'm gonna do). (Name) takes on a few different aliases to try and gather information from multiple sides. As the rebel leader, she's a thorn in Nadia's side. As the thought-to-be-deceased apprentice of Asra and aid to Doctor Devorak, she haunts the narrative as someone dearly missed, especially since its seems the attempted rivival ritual was unsuccessful (to the eyes of Nadia's circle). And, as the quirkly travelling jester, coming to Vesuvia every now and again on business, even when heavily concealed and disguised, the current nobles of Vesuvia can't help but feel connected. Something is familiar about that jester, who buys up people in unfortunate situations, loves the arts, how they speak of people. No one can put their fingers on it. And when said jester refuses to take off their mask, it can't help but be frustrating.

The six romance options in canon would serve as love interests of course. And since I'm a firm believer we are lacking yandere Arcana content, that would be the trope I dabble with.

There would be dark themes to expect if course. If I actually sit down to write this I'll be able to come up with a proper list.

Anyway, this is cool beans right? Maybe even a little awesome sauce?

[bee-calm]

who would win: minamoto teru or one weirdly helpful clockwork owl

read here!